


Ginny Weasley & The Chamber of Secrets

by justmattycakes



Series: Ginny Weasley - The Girl Who Lived [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Ginny Weasley, F/M, Ginny is the Chosen One, Slow Burn, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2020-08-23 20:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 70,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20212681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justmattycakes/pseuds/justmattycakes
Summary: Ginny had lived an unremarkable life as a muggle, bouncing between foster homes, until Hagrid’s fateful visit changed her universe. With her Hogwarts acceptance letter in hand, Ginny sets out to discover a world of magic - and learn the truth about her lightning scar.ChosenGinny and the First Year of Hogwarts, Magic and Mischief Included





	1. Things Can Only Get Better

**Author's Note:**

> Virginia 'Ginny' Shelton learns her real name and the truth about magic, her family, and her lightning scar.

* * *

##  **Things Can Only Get Better**

_ We're not scared to lose it all _

_ Security throw through the wall _

_ Future dreams we have to realize _

_ A thousand skeptic hands _

_ Won't keep us from the things we plan _

_ Unless we're clinging to the things we prize _

_ And do you feel scared? I do _

_ But I won't stop and falter _

_ And if we threw it all away _

_ Things can only get better_

  * __Howard Jones, 1985__

Follow along to [ Ginny’s Mixtape](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3kDLc9BK6sFjDCQ9lpZNyv)

* * *

Ginny shut the door behind her, the noise from the Leaky Cauldron dropping to a whisper and leaving her disoriented. It was unnerving, being recognized for something that happened to her when she was a baby… having strangers approach her and thank her for it while others gawked. Yesterday morning she hadn’t even known the name Weasley, hadn’t known that magic was real.

“Hagrid,” she heard herself stammer, “those people, they all know me. Like, know all about me and my parents. My _real_ parents.”

Hagrid beamed, unable to catch the fear in her words. “Well ‘course, Ginny, you’re famous here! Every boy and girl in our world grew up knowing your name.”

“Yeah, well I didn't.” It was a terrifying thought. She wasn’t prepared for this, she was still getting used to not being Virginia Shelton. Why was all of this happening?

“It won't always be like this, will it? The shaking hands and ‘thank you’s?”

Hagrid finally seemed to understand, scratching his beard in thought. “Well no, it won’t always be like this, I expect. It's just that no one knew where you were for so long, they’re right excited to know you’ve come back all safe and sound.” His shoulders dropped in resignation. “Lily was worried it would be like this. Maybe we can get you some new robes and a hat to hide your scar, that might keep ‘em guessing for a bit. At least we haven’t run into anyone from the Prophet…”

Ginny shrugged, wondering what her scar had to do with it. Did they know about the Sheltons’ car crash? “I just wish I knew why I was famous.” She fixed Hagrid with a piercing stare, the way she’d seen her third foster parent, Mrs. Cameron, do when the postman dropped his delivery. His eyes fell before her gaze, and she lifted her chin in silent triumph.

“Yes, well, I’m not sure I’m the one to tell you it all, there’s letters written to you, you see…” he began to wring his large hands, absentmindedly counting the stones in the wall before them.

“Then I want to read those first, if I can,” replied Ginny, defiant. Eleven years was long enough to be left in the dark. 

He nodded his head, gravely tapping the stones with his pink umbrella. The wall began to fold in on itself, the alley shaping into an ancient stone arch, cobbled streets and buildings appearing into view. Ginny watched, awestruck and hungry for more displays of magic. This was her chance at another world, _ her _ world. Here, things would be different.

Hagrid waved her through the arch. “It’ll be to Gringotts first, then. I’m to pick up funds for your supplies anyway, the Potters will have left it there for us. Come along, it’s not far. Oh, and welcome to Diagon Alley!”

Following in Hagrid’s wake, Ginny slowly tuned out the words he was saying about people she didn’t know and places she hadn’t gone to or even heard of. It wasn't like she was going to catch up on this whole new world in a five minute conversation. Instead she drank in the strangeness of the place, letting her eyes drift from one oddity to the next, challenging herself to believe all of this was real.

They walked past colored storefronts, all completely unfamiliar to Ginny. Broom shops and cauldron makers, potion supplies and pet shops filled with unexpected creatures. Even the bookstores and newsstands looked more magical than those she'd seen in London. She stared as a newspaper headline moved across the front page, _ ‘Has The Girl Who Lived Really Returned? An Inside Look At The World’s Biggest Secret’_. The scar that stood out on the baby's head was immediately familiar, and Ginny quickened her pace to keep up with Hagrid.

* * *

Inside Gringotts, which turned out to be some sort of bank run by goblins, they were led to a quiet room with a box set atop an old, wooden table. The goblin who’d led them in passed his fingers over the complex mechanism on the box, a series of locks clicking into place at his motion. He pinned them each with a pair of narrow eyes. 

“The contents of this box were left in our possession by James and Lily Potter with instructions to deliver them to one Ginevra Molly Weasley, in the company of her _ temporary _ guardian, one Rubeus Hagrid. Do you have verification that these aforementioned individuals are indeed you?”

Ginny stared at the goblin, his pointed teeth forming a rather unsettling smile. “Like a birth certificate? I don’t… well…” She looked to Hagrid, panic beginning to pool deep in her belly. She thought her foster parents might have one, though it would say Virginia Shelton on it if they did, wouldn't it? 

“I’ve got it here somewhere,” Hagrid mumbled, emptying all manner of trinkets from his pockets onto the spotless table. The goblin sniffed derisively, hiking up his glasses as he glared at what appeared to be a handful of soggy dog biscuits, but Hagrid characteristically remained oblivious.

“Ah, here it is. Professor Dumbledore gave it to me himself.” He turned to Ginny, winking. “Trusts me, he does, to help him with important tasks, like fetching you. And to watch the school and all the creatures. He’s the greatest wizard in the whole world, Professor Dumbledore, you’ll see when you get to Hogwarts.”

He said it with such blind faith that Ginny couldn’t help but believe him, though she knew hardly any wizards. The goblin seemed less impressed, but accepted the papers all the same.

“I suppose that’s all in order then,” he said as he opened the box. “You may have twenty three minutes in this room. This area is typically reserved for _ account holders _ only_, _however an exception was made on account of your, ahem, contributions to the magical community. The box itself, of course, remains the property of Gringotts.”

Ginny stared after him as his footsteps receded back toward the main hall. Now that the prospect of learning the truth stood before her, she couldn’t help but feel unprepared. She knew the Sheltons had adopted her when she was a baby, but she’d never known anything about her birth parents. And now she could feel the reality of it all, standing here at the brink of her knowing. What would happen when she learned the truth? Would she still be herself? If not, who would this new Ginny be? She reached out and took the first letter, carefully sliding her thumbnail under the seal.

And for the second time in her life, Ginny read her full name in writing, the curling script precise and full of character. The letter was signed Lily Potter.

Ginny read slowly, the tears sliding down her cheeks, forgotten. Her family had been hunted by a dark wizard who wanted to kill Ginny, the letter didn't explain why. 

Her parents and three brothers had been murdered by this _ Voldemort _ and his followers. Her great aunt and two uncles too. Ginny felt the fresh loss of her family even as she learned their names: Arthur and Molly, Charlie, Bill, and Percy. Gone forever, before she had the chance to meet them. Three brothers -- Fred, George, and Ron -- had survived.

Something had gone wrong the night when Voldemort came for Ginny; she'd survived with her lightning scar while he'd nearly been destroyed. Afterward, it was necessary to hide her away from Voldemort's followers. Dumbledore, who seemed to know everyone, had insisted she be raised by non-magical people.

She remembered the flash of green light from her nightmares and shivered, willfully pushing it out of her mind. She'd always assumed it was just a nightmare, but now she wasn't so sure.

Ginny's survival had made her a hero to most of the wizarding world, but a target for those who’d thrived under the dark wizard’s reign. To throw off any pursuers, Dumbledore and the Potters had used muggle methods of communication; phone calls and letters through the post. For a moment, she willed herself to remember a cheerful voice on the other end of a phone, the name Aunt Lily on her lips as a toddler. Was that memory true? Had there been others?

When the Sheltons had died, she’d been taken into the muggle foster care system and they’d lost track of her. On her eleventh birthday, her magic had manifested in full, allowing them to find her again through ‘the trace’. More magic she didn’t understand that went unexplained. Was she expected to know these things, or were they simply not telling her because she was a child?

The letter also spoke of the family waiting to meet her, including her brothers who'd survived. Lily said she understood it would all be overwhelming, so she’d wait alone in the Leaky Cauldron tomorrow morning, and Ginny could come if she was ready.

Wiping her eyes and staring at Hagrid, Ginny stood, carefully refolding the letter and placing it in her backpack along with the other unopened letters from the box. She needed time to think before she learned anything else; it was just too much, too fast. 

Still, whenever she closed her eyes she remembered how her heart had beat when she read the word ‘family’. It was every foster kid’s dream.

* * *

They left Gringotts in silence, Hagrid taking the pouch of unfamiliar coins for her school supplies. “How about we head over to Madam Malkin’s and get your new school robes? They’ll make you feel a proper witch, I expect.”

“How come you don’t wear any then?” asked Ginny, her eyes passing over the battered traveller’s cloak draped over his towering frame.

“Well,” he began, his voice sheepish. “There was a misunderstandin’ at school when I was a student, you see, and I got myself expelled. They broke my wand and everything. I’m no proper wizard, so no proper robes and no proper wand. But I get by.” His fingers tensed around his umbrella, and Ginny remembered the bits of magic he’d used to get her this far. Maybe he’d kept the pieces in the umbrella?

“Couldn’t something be done about it? Can’t this Dumbledore fix it, if he’s so great?”

Hagrid looked taken aback, but something like pride burned in his eyes. “Now don’t go and talk like that. He may be great but he isn’t a king or nothing, there’s only so much he can do. But he’s done right by me. It’s ‘cause of him I’m not rotting away in Azkaban. That’s the wizard prison, a right nasty place. Dumbledore let me stay on at Hogwarts and work after I got the boot, and I’ve got my home and my bloodhound Fang there now. It’s my life. You probably don’t know this, but it’s hard for a half giant like me to get a proper job, a job a wizard would want. Come now, trust me on the robes, you’ll see.”

Inside Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, Ginny stood quietly at the eye of the storm. Seamstresses bustled around her, jotting down numbers as self-measuring tapes quantified her every quality. She kept adjusting her hair over her scar, trying to prevent their furtive glances as they worked. 

“Just normal school robes will be fine, I don’t want anything too flashy,” Ginny insisted, the increasingly ornate robes beginning to worry her.

“Darling, I’m afraid no amount of ‘normal’ is going to dampen your celebrity. Embrace it, with _ flair_. That’s where I can help you.” She smiled sweetly, though there was a cunningness there that made her look like she was far more interested in helping sales than Ginny. 

“Just the school robes for now, please,” she pleaded, “and simple dress robes?” She’d never owned a dress made just for her, and Hagrid had said there was gold enough for that. 

Madam Malkin looked rather put out but relented, shoo-ing her subordinates away as she left to finish the robes. After a few minutes, another boy was led into the room, his blond hair slicked severely across his scalp. He turned to Ginny, his eyes leering at her as he smirked.

“I know a first year when I see one,” he drawled, smiling as if he were some sophisticated adult looking down on a child. He was probably twelve. “I’m Draco, Draco _ Malfoy_.” It was clear he expected her to know the surname, to be impressed by it. He didn’t offer his hand.

“Virginia Shelton,” answered Ginny, not interested in delving into her personal history.

“Hmmm, not a _ wizarding _ name,” answered Draco, the disdain apparent in his features as if forced to endure some unpleasant smell. It was all too familiar to Ginny, having grown up with second-hand clothes and the ever-present ‘foster kid’ label. 

“Anyway, I grew so much this summer that I’ve already outgrown my old robes, and father thinks it’s important to look my best at Hogwarts. Anyone who matters goes there, of course, but if you ask me they’ve been letting in all sorts lately.” It was clear what sort he thought Ginny belonged to. He paused long enough to make his point. “I’m sure my father would agree with me, and he’s important with the Ministry _ and _ Hogwarts. He says Slytherin is the only house that really matters and I agree. I’m in Slytherin, of course, but I don’t expect that’s where _ you’ll _ be sorted.”

Ginny met his eyes, her expression flat. It seemed the wizarding world had its share of prejudice and snot-nosed brats as well.

“My parents would have been disappointed if I was in Ravenclaw, though I’m smart enough and quite clever, of course,” he droned on, clearly used to being listened to. His nasally voice had already begun to grate on Ginny's nerves.

“Gryffindors are a bunch of thickheaded quidditch hooligans, bashing their heads together like muggle cavemen, and then there’s Hufflepuff. I think I’d just quit if I’d been sorted Hufflepuff, wouldn’t you?” He smirked again, the billowing of his unfinished robes making him look like a baby in a blanket. “Though I suppose even Hufflepuff is better than being a squib or a half-wit like that great oaf outside.” He pointed fiendishly at Hagrid, his eyes bright with malevolent glee. “Half breeds like that freak shouldn't be allowed wands.”

Ginny had had enough. “If you don’t shut your mouth, I’m going to have to come over there and introduce myself properly, _ Draco Malfoy, _” she said, his name leaving a vile taste in her mouth. She lifted her chin as before, giving him the impression she was looking down on him. His face burned with fury for a moment before Madam Malkin returned, but he kept his silence. Ginny gathered her robes, glad to be moving on.

“I’ll be seeing you at Hogwarts, Shelton,” spat Draco, his face burning with anger.

“Oh, I’ll be looking forward to it,” Ginny replied serenely, sealing her victory with a pleasant smile.

Outside, Ginny followed silently beside Hagrid, thinking on what Malfoy had said. “Do you need a wand to do magic, Hagrid?”

He smiled, pointing out a dingy shop at the end of the block. “Well of course, and that's where we'll get yours. Ollivander's, that's where I got my own wand, too. I think I might let you do that one on your own; I don't think he's ever forgiven me for letting it get snapped like that.”

Ginny nodded. “Why didn't you come into Madam Malkin's?”

“That's a bit of a surprise. I'll show you afterwards, I think you'll like it.”

Hagrid seemed pleased, his long strides easily taking five or six steps of Ginny's own. Still, something about her confrontation with Malfoy bothered her. She knew almost nothing about this world, about Hogwarts, about magic. What if she made a mistake? Or made a fool of herself? She had to know. 

“Are the Malfoys an important family?”

“Malfoy?” Hagrid glanced around for a moment, clearly making sure he wasn't being overheard. “Well, they are an old wizarding family, and they like to show how much money they’ve got. They were big supporters of _ You Know Who_.” Here, his eyes darted meaningfully to her scar. “But they managed to get out of trouble when he fell. Said they were being controlled by him, and maybe they were, but I doubt it. That son of theirs, Draco, he's a right nasty piece of work he is, and I don't normally say that about students. Actually, pretend I didn't say that.” He winked at her conspiratorially. “Lily's son Harry and your brother Ron seem to be scuffling with him every other week. How do you know about the Malfoys?”

She explained what had happened in Madam Malkin's, and Hagrid's face pinched in silent disgust. Ginny chose not to mention the things Malfoy had said about him.

“That slimy little git!” exclaimed Hagrid, two pigeons bolting from a nearby rooftop at his outburst. He shook his head again, clearly trying to decide what part made him angriest.

“Do people like the Malfoys think poor people shouldn't be allowed to learn magic?”

“What? You mean what he said about Hogwarts letting in ‘all sorts’? Well, I wouldn't put it past them, but it's the muggle-borns that they hate. They believe magic is all in your blood, so only pure-blooded wizard families should be allowed to learn. It's all hogwash, of course. Some of the best witches and wizards I know were muggle-born, and Dumbledore says magic is much more about practice and hard work than it is about blood.”

Ginny nodded. She'd heard similar ideas to Malfoy's from some kids at school, but always from the kids who thought they were better than everyone else; because of their skin color or what their parents could afford. “What about, um, Slytherin? And the other ones?” 

“Those are the four Hogwarts houses. Each of them have something special they're looking for in students. Gryffindor likes the brave ones, Hufflepuff the loyal ones, Ravenclaw the clever ones, and Slytherin the ambitious ones. Your brothers are all in Gryffindor. That was my house too, you know?” Hagrid asked, beaming with pride. “All the Malfoys have been in Slytherin, I bet. That's the same house _You Know Who_ was in too. There isn't a witch or wizard that went bad that wasn't in Slytherin.”

* * *

At Ollivander’s, Ginny decided on the third wand she tried, or rather it decided for her, as Mr. Ollivander insisted. The crimson sparks that danced among the rafters left Ginny with her first taste of magic by her own hand -- other than the 'accidents' that had plagued her childhood. It was invigorating, but her excitement was quickly cowed by the wandmaker’s explanation that her wand had a famous twin: the wand that had killed her parents and given her the lightning scar. She carefully placed it back in its ornate box and met Hagrid outside.

“Got your wand then?” asked Hagrid jovially, nearly bouncing on his toes. 

Ginny nodded, lifting her bag slightly. She handed the bag of strange coins back to Hagrid. She'd need to learn a whole new system of money, it seemed. If only being a witch came with some sort of an introduction. 

“Good. Right then, I've found you a bit of a birthday present. You aren't allergic to cats are you?”

Ginny shook her head. She remembered that the letter from Hogwarts had said students were allowed to bring pets. She'd never had a pet before. 

“Good. Now follow me, and stay close. I couldn't find what I was looking for in _Magical Menagerie_, but they had something even better down at _The Rare And Wild_. It's in Knockturn Alley, which is a bit seedier than this part of town. They know me though, we've done business before and Kemper knows I can be trusted. I have to pick up some flesh-eating slug repellent over thereabouts anyway.” Hagrid eyed Ginny for a few moments, finally putting her hat on her head and carrying the rest of her belongings. “Maybe best not to call attention to ourselves,” he muttered in explanation.

Ginny followed closely through the dingy streets. She'd seen parts of London like this, of course, but without the magical flair. The shops seemed to be more dangerous, dealing in things like poisons and frightening looking artifacts, and Ginny kept as near to Hagrid as she could without trodding on his feet. After a few minutes they entered a small pet shop, a few owls dozing quietly in the window.

“Hagrid, I knew you'd be back.” The man smiled and stepped out from behind the counter, hardly coming up to Hagrid's armpit. “It's lucky you came in today, I can't keep pets like our girl for long. You know how it is with the Ministry.”

“Of course, Kemper, it's for this one. Bit of a birthday present.” He gestured for Ginny to come closer.

The man stared at her closely, and Ginny couldn't help but adjust her hat further over her scar. He smiled to himself, but it wasn't unkind. “I think I understand why you've come to me today, Hagrid. I'll be right back.” He nodded to each of them and slid behind a bookcase, signaling for a young man to take over the counter. After a few moments he emerged with a large cat lounging luxuriously in his arms.

The cat stepped gracefully onto the counter, its crested mane a bright white against its soft orange coat. After watching Ginny for a few moments, it approached, softly nuzzling her outstretched hand. Hagrid beamed with pride as if she'd passed some sort of unspoken test. 

“This is a _ Siberian. _Hagrid, I'm going to have to ask you to do the rest. And you…”

“Won it in a card game, yeah, I know the rules Kemper. Don't worry, I'll tell her what she needs to know. Thanks, mate, I owe you one for this.”

“I think you'll find we're still even,” smiled the shopkeep, waving Hagrid away from the register. “And happy birthday to you, dear.”

* * *

“What do you think I should name her Hagrid?” Ginny watched with glee as _ her _ cat languished in a small spot of sun on their picnic table. Ginny was eating ice cream and feeling ever so pleased.

“Well, we'll get to that in a minute, but I've got to tell you something special about this cat. Though I need you to promise me that you'll keep all of this a secret, can you do that for me?” Hagrid picked fretfully at his beard. 

“Sure, I promise. Cross my heart.”

He waved her closer, shielding his words with a massive hand. “It's actually a kneazle. They're a lot like cats, ‘cept they're smarter and can tell if someone's worth trusting. Mighty useful they are, kneazles. But you're supposed to apply for a license with the Ministry, and we haven't got one. She looks like a normal cat though, and I reckon you need her more than most.”

“Is she using magic? To do that?” Ginny reached out to stroke her fur.

“Course she is, but like I said, that's a pretty important secret I'm trusting you with, alright? You promise to take good care of her?” 

Ginny nodded solemnly, trying to show how serious she was. “I'm a great secret keeper, don't worry Hagrid, I won't let anyone know what she really is. And I'm good at taking care of things too, I was always in charge of feeding the classroom pet at school.”

Hagrid nodded, seeming reasonably convinced. It would have to do. It's not like they could take the cat, or kneazle, back now anyway.

Hagrid checked his pocket watch, looking at it carefully before muttering to himself. Ginny relaxed in the sun, finishing her ice cream and thinking about how this had been the most wonderful day of her life so far. She thought about the letters she had stored in her backpack, but quickly pushed those thoughts away. She could read those later. She didn't want to miss any of this world just because she was distracted.

“Alright now, we can do one last stop at Flourish and Blotts for your books and supplies. They'll have all the ink and quills and things.” Hagrid pointed out a large storefront on the other end of the square, it's doors bustling with what seemed like half the witches in Diagon Alley.

“Quills and ink?” asked Ginny, confused. “Like for writing, in olden times? Are they special?”

“What?” asked Hagrid, confused. “Yeah, of course they're used for writing. You can get special quills, but the normal ones work just fine.”

“So you dip the quill in the ink and just write? No magic?”

Hagrid nodded, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. “I mean, there's quills that will write for you, and quills that will catch cheating. And spells to keep the quills sharp and all. But students mostly use the normal ones. We don't use magic for everything, you know.”

“Aren't there any pens then?”

“Pens?”

Ginny laughed to herself, pulling one from her bag. “Yes, like this.” She held out her favorite ballpoint. It had four little buttons she could slide down to choose her ink color. She pulled out one of the envelopes she had and wrote ‘Ginny Shelton’ on the back, doing her best cursive penmanship. After a moment she realized her mistake and crossed it out, carefully writing ‘Ginny Weasley’ instead. She'd have to learn to remember that.

Hagrid took the pen and stared at it for a few moments, looking moderately confused, before handing it back to Ginny. “Well, I can't rightly say if there are any rules about it at Hogwarts. Maybe we'd better get the supplies on the list, just in case.”

* * *

Inside Flourish & Blotts was absolute mayhem. The usual crowd of students and parents was quickly shouldered aside by a rabid group of witches and wizards, all fans of a certain Gilderoy Lockhart who appeared to be signing books. Large posters showing his face flashed smiles from almost every direction, many eliciting giggles or blushes as they zeroed in on specific customers. Ginny tried to find the books on her list, realizing that one of her professors had chosen nearly all of Lockhart's books. As she elbowed her way to a stack near the back of the room, she heard her name called above the commotion.

“Merlin, is that THE Ginevra Weasley?” 

Heads swiveled in her direction as she attempted to slide a copy of _ Waltzes With Werewolves _ out from under the display of _ Magical Me: The Extraordinary Life of Gilderoy Lockhart as told by Gilderoy Lockhart. _Ginny swallowed, trying not to panic. 

“Ginevra Weasley, a fan of mine?” answered the man signing autographs at the front, his voice projecting above the din. His quill continued to sign on its own as he stood. “Make way, make way for the G_irl Who L__ived._ Wonderful! Come, Ginevra, let's take some pictures together. Give the people what they want. Come now, darling, fame awaits!”

She immediately hated the tone of his voice, as if he were both completely clueless and very well aware of the demands he could make from this crowd. Ginny felt herself pushed forward, still clutching the textbook as if it were a shield. Hagrid had the wherewithal to look completely dumbfounded, waving oddly to Ginny as he stood easily two heads above the crowd. 

“Now, Ginny, you don't mind if I call you Ginny, do you? Of course not.” He turned back to the crowd, ignoring her response. “When Ginny came in here today, she was only looking to get her hands on a signed copy of my memoir, _ Magical Me_.” At this, he flashed another smile to match the posters, panning the crowd. ”What she didn't expect was that she'd be getting signed copies of _ all _ my books, and even better, the _ real _magical me. This coming year I'll be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!” 

The crowd roared in response, though Ginny couldn't understand why; they were all much too old for school. She tried to step out from under Lockhart's arm, but he held firm, pivoting for another photograph.

“Can you imagine? Me, the most world renowned protector of the innocent and Witch Weekly’s best smile five years running, and my star pupil, Ginny Weasley, the _ Girl Who Lived_. This year, we make history! And maybe next year, a book deal and a world tour, right Ginny? I'm just joking of course.”

The crowd cheered again, and Ginny felt momentarily blinded by flashbulbs, finally stumbling through the crowd minutes later with a huge stack of books. They all kept flashing that idiotic smile at her, over and over and over. 

Back outside, Hagrid took the books from her, watching her warily. “I'm sorry about that. That Lockhart bloke is a real piece of work, if you ask me, but I guess his credentials speak for themselves. Probably smile for themselves too, I reckon. The other professors will be more, erm, professional,” he hastily added, seeing Ginny's expression of distaste.

Ginny nodded her head. She was getting tired and ready for dinner and a warm bed. “Are we nearly done yet?” 

“That should be enough for today. It's back to the Leaky Cauldron for now; I'll ask Tom to send you up your dinner, no need to head to the crowded dining room. Unless you'd prefer…”

Ginny shook her head quickly. “No, the room is fine.”

* * *

That night Ginny was grateful that Tom let her use the back entrance for the Leaky Cauldron; she'd had enough attention to last a while, especially after Lockhart.

She stared curiously at the small package before her; Tom had said someone left it as a gift for the ‘_Girl Who Lived_’. It seemed she already had a nickname that everyone else knew about.

The package felt like a book of some kind, but if the last two days had taught her anything, it was that her instincts were totally unprepared for this new reality. Was it safe? She didn't know, and wasn't sure who she'd ask anyway. Throwing caution to the wind, Ginny tore open the wrapping. Inside was an old, leather bound diary. Embossed on the cover were the letters T.M.R. in flowing, gold script. There was also a note.

_ May these words inspire great deeds. _

Ginny stared at the book for a while, wondering if there was some sort of magic that could tell her if it was dangerous. She wasn't normally hesitant, and the book certainly looked harmless enough. She took a deep breath and flipped it open, laughing at herself when nothing happened. It was just a normal diary, she supposed, though she wasn't sure whose initials they were on the front.

Skimming through the diary, she realized the pages were all empty. How would a blank book inspire her? Maybe it was some adult lesson about growing up or inspiring herself. She crumpled the note and threw it at the bin, missing by a wide margin. Whatever.

Pulling out her new quill, Ginny carefully dipped the nib in her inkwell and held it above the first page. She'd never kept a diary before, not really. Sometimes the teachers in school had the students keep one, but she always had to hand those in so she'd never filled them with her secrets. How did one even begin?

While she hesitated, a drop of ink fell onto the page, making an angry black splotch on the field of clean white. Ginny gasped and quickly wiped at the dot, smearing ink further across the page. With a sigh of resignation, she turned the page over and wrote ‘Ginevra Molly Weasley’ on the top before setting it down. Maybe she'd start writing tomorrow night. 

Ginny pulled out her new textbooks, letting her fingers run across the glossy pages. At first, she was surprised that there were so many different types of magic, though she hadn't asked Hagrid about it. She was quickly becoming wary of asking too many questions. Now that she thought about it, though, it made sense. After all, there were all kinds of maths that she'd had to learn in school, like addition and subtraction and multiplication, and plenty of other subjects like History and Government and Literature. None of the new books looked like maths though, which was a relief. None of them looked familiar at all, actually. Maybe Potions was like Chemistry? Not that Ginny knew how to do that either.

“Do wizards not do maths then?” she asked her cat, still at a loss on what to name her. The cat purred deeply and settled on top of her windowsill, watching the passersby below. 

Ginny grabbed ‘A History of Magic: Volume One’ from the pile and began to flip through the pages at random. “I'll find you a good magical name, so you know when I'm trying to talk to you,” explained Ginny, deciding that a special cat couldn't be named something boring like Whiskers or Buttons. And, as much as it pained her, she had to admit that ‘Evel Keneazle’ was a bit obvious and exactly what Hagrid had asked her not to do. Wizards probably wouldn't get it anyway. 

After a few name options were received with vast indifference, Ginny landed on Cleopatra Knight-O’Cassidy, who had been the first witch to join the Wizengamot in 1684. Her portrait showed fiery red hair and a look of smug satisfaction that resonated with Ginny. More importantly, it seemed to resonate with her cat, who had joined Ginny on the bed with a graceful leap.

“Cleopatra,” cooed Ginny, marveling at her beautiful orange fur. “And Cleo for short, of course.”

Ginny closed the book and returned to the letter from Lily Potter. She re-read it twice more before drifting off to sleep.


	2. Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)

##  **Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)**

_Sweet dreams are made of this _

_ Who am I to disagree? _

_ I've traveled the world and the seven seas _

_ Everybody's lookin' for something _

_ Some of them want to use you _

_ Some of them want to get used by you _

_ Some of them want to abuse you _

_ Some of them want to be abused _

  * __Eurythmics, 1983__

Follow along to [Ginny’s Mixtape](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3kDLc9BK6sFjDCQ9lpZNyv)

* * *

Lily Potter sat at the edge of the bench inside the booth, her posture prim but inviting. Ginny stared at her auburn hair flowing in perfect locks and thought about how hers always fell straight on either side of her face like curtains. '_Maybe it's just magic and anyone can learn', _she thought to herself, finally pulling her hair into a ponytail, though she doubted it. Some days she wanted to cut it short like a boy's, but tomboys weren't what families were looking for, or so Ms. Brown of Child Services had told her.

Ginny gathered her courage and sat down across from the woman, discreetly pressing her hand against the pocket which held her letters. It was comforting to remember they were there, as well as their contents. Just in case. 

“Ginevra,” said Lily quietly, not so much a question as an observation. Her eyes darted to the scar quickly before settling back on her, scanning her face for… well, something. She smiled sweetly, but there was a strained sorrow behind her eyes. “I'm so glad you've come. I can only imagine how difficult and unexpected all of this is for you, and I'm sorry it's taken until now to find you.”

She reached out to hold Ginny's hand, but stopped short, unsure. “You can call me Lily, or Aunt Lily, if you'd like.”

“Thank you,” mumbled Ginny, suddenly unsure of how to begin. She had so many questions. “You can call me Ginny.” She took Lily’s hand, absurdly feeling the need to cry rise up in her throat. She shoved it back down mercilessly; she didn't want to look weak.

They shared a few moments in companionable silence while Tom brought them each a cup of tea and set about making their breakfast. Behind every thought, Ginny felt one question bubbling to the surface, over and over and over.

“Why me?” she almost blurted, trying to keep from showing how flustered she felt. The heat in her cheeks threatened to overwhelm her, but she didn’t back down. She had to know.

“Why were you attacked? Or why did you survive?” asked Lily, blowing lightly on the surface of her tea. “Or why did you get adopted by muggles?” Her eyes were brimming with pity as she stared over the edge of her mug. Ginny looked away, she didn’t need anyone’s pity.

“All of it, I guess.”

“I don’t have a lot of those answers, and the ones I do have are difficult to explain.” Lily stared out the window onto the London side, her fingers idly picking at a chip in her mug. “There was a group of us, all those years ago, who were fighting the dark wizard and his army. He was gaining power and followers fast, and people were going into hiding instead of trying to resist. But we stayed and fought. We called ourselves The Order of the Phoenix.

“Your uncles were with us, in the Order, though your parents weren’t. They had their hands full raising all of you, I expect. We heard through our network that the dark wizard and his followers, he called them the Death Eaters, were hunting for a baby that could bring about his downfall. Something from a prophecy.”

Ginny stared back in disbelief. She felt furious, but tried to keep the emotion from her voice. “A prophecy? He murdered half my family over some prophecy?”

Lily spread her hands placatingly. “The world is very different, on this side. I grew up as a muggle, like you did, and the rest of my family are all muggles too. I understand how crazy it sounds, but things like prophecy are very real here. I haven’t heard your prophecy myself, but it was apparently very specific. It was Albus Dumbledore who heard it, in fact. He may be able to tell you more when you get to school, I suppose, though he does like his secrets.”

Tom returned carrying two steaming plates of breakfast, the rich aromas reminding Ginny how hungry she felt. As if on cue, a low rumble roiled in her stomach and she did her best to keep from shoveling food in front of Lily Potter. Ms. Cameron had drilled manners into her, and though she hadn't cared at the time, Ginny wished she could remember all the rules better. She _ had _ to make a good first impression if she wanted to find a new home. 

Lily smiled politely, nibbling lightly at her toast before continuing. “After the prophecy, your family went into hiding, sending your brothers away to keep them safe. Voldemort found some of them before finding you and your parents, but not all of them. Your brother Ron stayed with us since he's the same age as our son, Harry. The twins, Fred and George, went with our good friend Sirius Black. I believe he’s actually a distant relative of yours.”

Ginny nodded. She knew some of this from Lily’s letter, but it was a lot to process at once. “But why did I go to the Sheltons after? Why couldn't I know?”

Lily’s mouth softened, her lip quivering slightly. “Afterward, when we found you, we wanted to adopt you, but Dumbledore had worked with a muggle family to find a home for you. I… I should have insisted, I should have stopped it, but it was only supposed to be temporary. It was fine for a few years; we even spoke on the telephone a few times, but you were so young, and we couldn’t know anything about where you were. When the Sheltons died in the car accident, you were already part of the muggle system, so you were placed in a foster home. When James and I found out, we searched all over for you. Every time we thought you’d surfaced, it was another mistake or disappointment. I’m so sorry that this happened to you Ginny. I feel like this was all my fault,” Lily dabbed at the corner of her eyes, looking wretched.

“Couldn’t, well, couldn’t you have used magic or something to find me?” Ginny was very aware that she didn’t know how everything worked, but they’d found her well enough when it was time to start school. Not that it mattered, it was done and this was just the way it was now. 

“There are magical methods for finding people,” nodded Lily, not meeting her eyes. “But there are also magical methods for hiding people. I’m… well I’m afraid that Dumbledore might have hidden you on purpose. He felt it was the safest method, in case any of Death Eaters who were still in hiding tried to come for you. He said that you’d be safe enough until you turned eleven, and the trace became active.” She rested her elbows on the table, shielding her face with her hands. “It’s not a very satisfying story. I’ve lost so many nights of sleep over it; calling muggle adoption agencies and foster programs, church groups and orphanages. For a long time, I was afraid that his followers had been behind the accident and your disappearance.

“I can only imagine what it must have been like for you. There’s so much I want to tell you about your family, but the boys thought of an even better idea,” she reached into her bag, pulling out a large scrapbook.

“We knew we’d be able to find you after your birthday, so your brothers and Harry found as many pictures as they could so they could give you this, when the time came.” Lily handed her the scrapbook, clearly proud of them.

Ginny felt touched by the gesture, never having seen her family before. The resemblance was easy to spot as they all shared her red hair and freckles. She was both surprised and delighted to find the images moving, relishing how it captured the personality of her parents and siblings.

“I know this is all very sudden, Ginny, but we’d love to have you come and live with us. You don’t need to answer now if you aren’t ready,” added Lily hastily. “Whenever you feel comfortable…”

“Yes, I’d like that,” answered Ginny, her heart beating hard in her chest. She’d been waiting years for a chance like this, and she wasn’t going to back down now that it was happening.

* * *

Ginny flipped open the diary, thinking about her first day with the Potters. She'd been hesitant to open up to them, but she felt comfortable in their home--something she'd always had trouble with when moving in with new foster parents. They'd even allowed her to have her own space, _ her own room, _and told her that it was hers to decorate as she pleased.

Looking down at the pages, Ginny stopped short. Hadn't she gotten ink all over the first page? And hadn't she written her name inside as well? She turned over the book and skimmed through the empty pages, wondering if she'd imagined it. No, she'd written her name. She just didn't see it anywhere.

Grabbing her inkwell, Ginny wrote her name again on the first page, taking care not to drip ink this time. And then she waited. Time ticked by slowly and she was about to give up, but then she saw the letters start to fade into the page as if sinking deeper. After a few moments they were gone, and Ginny exhaled a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. What did it mean?

She didn't have to wait long for an answer, text bubbling up from within to meet her. 

_T: Hello Ginevra, my name is Tom. _

Ginny startled, slamming the book closed in shock. Was this a normal magic thing? Had the book written back, or was this some sort of magical telegram? She could feel her heart nearly beating out of her chest, the rhythm far too fast for her as the sound grew in her ears. She gave Cleo a quick look, but she was undisturbed on the windowsill, carefully watching a pair of sparrows flitting from tree to tree in the backyard. Maybe the diary was fine, or maybe her trustiness-radar thing didn't work on books?

Taking a deep breath, Ginny opened the book again, Tom's words stark against the blank page. She dipped her quill again, willing herself to calm her shaking fingers.

_ G: Hello Tom, how are you writing to me? _

The words dissolved again, Tom's fading along with hers. In a moment they were replaced with new ones, each word and letter being written in script before her as she watched.

_ T: This is my diary and I'm housed within its pages, the memory of myself at sixteen. _

_G: You're a memory? But you have your own thoughts and words? Also, you can call me Ginny. _

_ T: My thoughts and words are my own. I'm a copy of the boy I was then, but I'm separate now, and I have been for nearly fifty years. _

Ginny stared at the words in shock. Fifty years? She wondered if this Tom, the _ real _Tom, could still be alive. Who had given this to her, and why? The note had said something about great deeds? Was Tom supposed to guide her to do something specific? Or maybe just to mentor her? Or was this some sort of elaborate trick? She wondered if she could trust him. From the sound of it, there were plenty of people who wanted to get back at her or use her because of what she'd done as a baby.

She held the quill over the page, hovering in her indecision. How could she test him?

_ T: Are you still there Ginny? _

_ G: How do I know I can trust you? _

_ T: What would you like to know about me? Ask me whatever you'd like, Ginny, and I'll tell you the truth. _

_ G: Why did you trap yourself in a diary like this? It seems like punishment. _

Ginny waited, the pause longer than the rest. It certainly felt like a real conversation, someone deliberating on the other end. She could feel her heart beating quickly, something too close to fear in the way her mind jumped from question to question. Could this Tom do anything to her? Was this some sort of trap?

_ T: Well, that's a difficult question for me to answer, as I'm the result of that decision. At sixteen, my life was changing. I was finishing my education at Hogwarts, and I wanted to change the world… to lead a revolution, in a way. I'd seen so many before me lose their drive and fall short. I thought if I could contain that part of me, then I wouldn't lose it. I could press on where others stopped. _

_ G: What happened? _

_ T: I don't know. It's been a long time since I've spoken with anyone at all, but I don't want to know about what happened to me. I want to know about you, Ginny. _

She felt her unease begin to soften, and she found that she did want to write to Tom. So much had happened in the past few days, and she wasn't sure she could process it all on her own. So many people had been interested in her for their own reasons, but Tom didn't seem to know who she was or her significance to the wizarding world. Maybe she could be herself with him, without expectations, so she began to write him the truth. Or at least her version of it.

* * *

There was a soft knock at her door, and Ginny opened it hesitantly.

“Can I come in for a moment?” It was Ron. He was standing in an oversized orange shirt for some sports team, probably quidditch.

She let the door swing wider and sat on the foot of her bed, Cleo curling herself into Ginny's lap. “Yeah?” 

Ron paced the room a few times, clearly flustered. “I'm sorry about… I mean… erghh. Do you, um, do you hate me?”

“Hate you?” She'd only met Ron the day before, and besides that he was her brother. She was just thankful he'd survived too; she'd been alone for long enough. “Why would I hate you?”

“Well, we were both orphans, but you got raised by muggles while I had the Potters, and the twins got Sirius. It's just, it's not fair. I'm sorry, I don't know why…”

“Dumbledore,” answered Ginny surprised to find the anger and resentment building below the surface. “Lily said that he decided it all. Apparently he thought I'd be safest that way. It seems he decides a lot of things around here.”

Ron stared at her, clearly unsure of what to think of her criticism of Dumbledore. “He did? Well, at least you were safe, right? I mean, nothing bad happened, did it?”

Ginny stared at him, watching him withdraw a little under her gaze. How could she explain feeling unwanted for so long? How could she tell him what it was like to never know who her real parents were, never know that she wasn't alone in the world? He seemed to catch something of her internal struggle, his weight shifting warily from foot to foot. 

“No, I wasn't attacked, if that's what you're asking. But that doesn't mean something bad didn't happen. It doesn't mean that I was happy.”

Ron stared at his feet, his shoulders drooping a little as he stood. _ Boys, _ thought Ginny with frustration, _ they act all big and tough until they have to deal with something real, and then they can't wait to hide from it. _

“I'm sorry, Ginny. I'm sorry this all happened, I'm sorry you didn't know about mom and dad.”

Ginny wanted to tell him to get out, that she didn't need his pity and it didn't matter, what was done was done. He was trying though, and none of this was his fault, after all.

“I… It's okay. Or at least it's over.” She forced a smile and Ron nodded at her, his face grim but resolved.” I'd like to know more about them though. Our parents, I mean.”

His face lit into a grin, and Ginny could easily see the boy from the album pictures, his eyes bright with joy. It hurt a little to think about it, knowing she had no pictures of herself like that, no past life that was filled with joy and care and love. She pushed the sadness down quickly before it caught a foothold; what good would it do her now?

“Okay. Yeah, I can do that. It's all mostly from their friends, and Fred and George, somewhat. I was too little to remember anything really. Dad worked for the Ministry, he was in the Muggle Relations department. He loved Muggle things, you see? Used to collect all sorts of gadgets and take them apart to see how they worked. Sirius said he once enchanted a whole car so it was bigger on the inside and could fly and go invisible. I never saw it though. Mom stayed at home and raised us, all seven of us. Everyone said she was a great cook and the kindest woman in the world, unless you missed dinner or tracked mud in the house, then she was like an angry bear,” Ron smiled, his eyes rimmed with red. “I'll think of more, I promise. And Fred and George know some too…” he trailed off, looking abashed.

“Thank you,” she answered, her voice softer than she'd expected as her words caught in her throat. “And thank you for the picture album, I… I'd never seen them before.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “It was Harry's idea, but we all did it together. I'd like to look at it sometimes too, if that's okay?”

Ginny smiled and nodded, afraid to speak.

* * *

“Alright now Ginny, level off the broom and get a feel for the handling,” coached James from down below. They'd started flying lessons almost as soon as she'd arrived at Godric's Hollow and she was eager to master the skill.

“That's it, that's it, slow and steady. Once you get a feel for it, you can accelerate by leaning into the broom, just be careful not to put too much weight on it -- you don't want to go into a nosedive just yet.”

“How do I pull out of it if I do?” Ginny shouted from above, starting to feel more and more comfortable as she maneuvered the broom. It reminded her of flying a plane, not that she'd ever done that before, but she was pretty sure she understood the basics of how it worked.

“Just lean back and pull up on the handle. The direction it's pointing is where you want the broom to go.”

Ginny practiced moving up and down in the air a few times before putting on some speed. The rush of the warm August air felt radiant on her skin, like she was a bird free of all earthly tethers. She leaned further against the broom, tears flecking from her eyes as she squinted against the wind. James was shouting for her to slow down from below, but the rush was too exhilarating for her to stop. She banked hard to the left, turning herself back toward the Potter's yard and zooming past at breakneck speed. As she reached the pond, Ginny angled her broom into a dive, willing herself to keep her nerve until the last possible moment. The tips of her shoes just skimmed the surface of the water as she straightened her broom, whooping triumphantly.

Ginny could feel her face flush as she pulled up, gripping the broom tightly between her knees. She stretched her arms out, the wind whipping her hair. This was freedom. And then her grip slipped and she panicked, pitching herself forward into a dive as she lunged for the handle. 

There was a sharp ringing in her ears and Ginny felt the wind knocked from her lungs. Her head felt bright with pain, her vision dazedly focused on her broom as it stuck into the mud at an odd angle. She could see James running to her side, nearly slipping in the mud himself. He looked as if he was shouting, but Ginny could only watch his mouth move in frantic silence. She felt so tired all of a sudden, longing to close her eyes and sleep away the pain.

Strong arms lifted her from the ground, and Ginny peeked out from her lowered eyelids.

“Don't go to sleep now, let's get you inside. You had quite a fall there and your head took most of the impact. Lily's a deft hand with healing charms though, alright?”

Ginny nodded, but it sent her world spinning in an uncomfortable way. She fought the urge to close her eyes again, her brain finally beginning to recover enough for cogent thought. She'd been so _ stupid _, what did she know about flying? James had told her to slow down and be careful, he was going to take the broom away and she'd be punished. Ginny was being a troublemaker, just like Ms. Brown had said, and she was going to ruin everything. They couldn't send her back, could they?

“James, what's…”

“She took a hard fall, probably a concussion, I think. You were right about the helmet, I know,” he added quickly, eyeing Lily sheepishly, her lips a thin line as she examined Ginny's eyes.

She was angry, Ginny could tell. She'd hardly lasted a few days without causing another one of her _ accidents. _She didn't even know how she caused them, just that they were wrong. 

When Lily finished her checkup, she pulled a slender wand from her apron pocket and silently muttered as she cast a number of spells over Ginny. “She's known about magic for some five days and you decide to start her on quidditch drills? James, I swear, sometimes…”

The pain in Ginny's head had begun to subside, replaced by a deep shame. She kept her eyes on her shoes, their laces dripping dirty pond water on the clean kitchen tiles. This was going to be it, they were going to send her back.

“To be fair, we hadn't really gotten that far yet. She was quite good, just got cocky at the end.”

Lily shook her head, finishing with her work. “Now I wonder who that sounds like. Alright Ginny, go and relax on the couch. You'll start to feel better soon, but I don't want you jumping back into it, your head still needs to recover. And be careful, magic can’t fix everything and can often be dangerous, alright?"

Ginny nodded, trying to school her face into a neutral expression. Maybe they weren't angry after all, just concerned for her? Relief bloomed somewhere deep inside her, the tightness in her chest easing its grip.

“Are you alright Ginny? You can tell me the truth, does it still hurt?”

Ginny shook her head, instantly regretting it. She wiped at the tears that had managed to slip past her defenses. “No, I'm alright. Thank you, Lily, for helping me.”

Lily smiled, reaching out and tucking a stray hair behind Ginny's ear. “Of course, are you sure everything is alright? You looked so frightened a moment ago. You can tell us if something is wrong, okay?”

Ginny nodded, wanting to tell her everything, but she was still afraid. Was this how parents were? Could she trust them with how she really felt, or would they be angry?

“I'm okay, I think. It's just… well, they always told me I was so much trouble, back in foster care. That if I kept causing all these _ accidents _, if I behaved badly, that no one would adopt me. That anyone in their right mind would send me back, once I'd made a mess of things again,” she continued, feeling like she couldn't stop now that she'd started. “I don't want to be any trouble, honest. I won't mess up like that again. I promise I'll be more careful. I don't want to go back.”

She was really crying now, making a fool of herself in front of them. '_ They must be thinking they've made a huge mistake,' _thought Ginny furiously, hating herself for being so weak and stupid.

“Oh Ginny dear,” said Lily gathering her in her arms and kissing her on the forehead. “We'd never send you back. I'm so sorry you've been treated so poorly, but you're home now, alright? You're home.”

* * *

Ginny pulled her headphones off, letting her bubble gum pop in her mouth. Lily's son, Harry, was trying to talk to her. Ron had told her that it had been Harry's idea to make the scrapbook, and she was grateful, but she hadn't figured out how to bring it up yet. Every time she thought about it her stomach seemed to flip.

“Yeah?”

Harry pointed at the headphones, curious. “What are those? Do they play music? Like little ear speakers?”

Ginny stared at him for a few moments, trying to decide if he was having a go at her. His face looked earnest enough, then she remembered Hagrid and the pen. Maybe wizards just didn't know about this stuff?

“These are called headphones, and this is my Walkman,” Ginny gestured to the tape deck. “I put tapes in here, and it plays the music that’s on the tapes with these buttons. That one does record, this is forward and back, play, and stop.” She stopped the music and popped the tape deck open to show him.

He turned it over in his hands, handling it delicately. “Big J’s Jams,” Harry read, “who is Big J? Are they a singer or something?”

Ginny shrugged, “I think it’s whoever made the mix tape, or maybe whoever they made it for.” She popped the tape back into the deck, locking it into place with a satisfying click. “I bought the Walkman used for a few quid since the radio was broken. It's got speakers though, and the tape was still inside when I got it.”

“What’s a mixtape?” Harry asked, taking a seat next to her on the bench and looking out at the pond down the lane.

“Well, say you want just one song from a bunch of different bands or singers, instead of a whole album. You can record the songs you want onto a tape, as long as you have a tape with the song already on it, or if it's on the radio or something. Like a copy.”

Harry nodded, though she could tell that she’d lost him. “Here, I’ll show you.” She scooted over next to him, and stretched the headphones so they could each listen with one ear. It was a tight fit, their faces pressed awkwardly close together. Ginny tried not to breathe.

“This one is called ‘Sweet Dreams.’ It’s one of my favorites.” She hit play, instantly sinking into the punchy basslines. When the chorus came around, she almost sang aloud, but tried not to move too much so Harry could hear properly. After the song finished, she stopped the tape and took the headphones off.

“Wow. ” Harry smiled, his eyes wide with wonder. “That’s… well I’ve never heard anything like that. That was real groovy. I don’t think we have any music like that. Mom only ever plays Celestina Warbeck, basically. Do you have any more like that other one?”

Ginny smiled. “Oh yeah, there’s the whole rest of the tape. Wanna listen?”

* * *

Ginny trudged up the back steps of the Potter's home, carefully removing her shoes and banging out the mud as Lily liked. There was a pungent aroma that reminded her of the older kids who used to hang out behind the high school after class, and she traced its source to a rocking chair at the end of the porch. She was not alone. 

Lounging across the chair was a man in a dark emerald coat reading a worn copy of _ War and Peace _. He peeked at her over the edge of his book for a moment before returning to his place and marking the page.

“Ginny, right? I'm Sirius Black,” he gave a little wave but didn't stand. “Ever read _ War and Peace _ back in school?” he asked, casually resting his feet on the ottoman and pointing at her with an old pipe.

Ginny shook her head. “No, I'm eleven. We read _ The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe _ last year, but the witch wasn't much like a real witch at all.”

“I don't expect many of the muggle books get magic quite right, but I suppose they’re meant to be fiction.” After a few moments lost in thought, he turned back to Ginny. “Are you a dog person, by the way? It’s rather important.”

“Well, I have a cat,” answered Ginny hesitantly. He began to frown and she quickly added, “But I do like dogs. Of course.”

As if on cue, Cleo slunk outside, giving Sirius a wide berth. She eventually walked past his legs, nuzzling lightly against him.

“That's not really a cat, did you know?” asked Sirius pointing at Cleo.

“Whatever do you mean?” answered Ginny coyly, remembering Hagrid's warning.

Sirius laughed, tossing the book aside. He drew deeply from his pipe, coughing a little as he exhaled. “Good try, I’ll give you credit. I assume she isn't on the Ministry registry, then. I haven't met many kneazles, but I know how to recognize them. This one is the spitting image of a regular cat, but I can smell the difference. Just barely.”

Ginny stared back at him, wondering if he was telling the truth. He _ was _ right, after all. 

“Oh, don't worry, we've all got our own secrets that we'd like to keep from the Ministry,” he answered, wiggling his eyebrows and setting down his pipe to stand. 

"This one is mine." Without another word, he bent forward and transformed into a hulking black dog, fur springing forth all over his body.

Of all the things she’d witnessed since discovering magic was real, Ginny had not been prepared for this. Was he some type of werewolf, or something? That could change whenever he wanted? Ginny almost instinctively reached out to pet him, but pulled back. Would that be too personal? He did seem like a real dog though, now scratching his ear with a hind leg in a decidedly dog-like way. Dog-Sirius rolled over and barked, transforming back into his human form, laughing the whole time.

“I’m sorry, I don’t get to pull that stunt very often, I just _ had _ to see the look on your face.”

Ginny felt her cheeks flush, embarrassed by his teasing. “Can you do other tricks then? Fetch? Or play dead?”

Sirius laughed even harder, reaching out to pat her shoulder goodnaturedly. “You’re a firecracker aren’t you? Brilliant. You’re going to love Hogwarts, I’ll bet. Know about the houses and all that?”

Ginny nodded, remembering Draco Malfoy. “A bit. It sounds like everyone here was in Gryffindor, and Slytherin is for pricks. Hagrid said they all look for certain traits they like best, and anyone who's ever been evil was in Slytherin.” Ginny paused, unsure. “Are there ever kids that aren’t sorted?”

Sirius looked thoughtful, “No, I mean, I don’t think so. Certainly never while I was at school. I wouldn’t worry about that though, the sorting hat knows what it’s about. My whole family were Slytherin, all of them pricks like you said, some of them even evil, but I got Gryffindor. That’s where I met James, Lily, and Remus; my real family.”

Ginny nodded, understanding the feeling of finding your place after so long. At least she hoped she had. Sirius stared out the back of the porch, seemingly at nothing in particular, and Ginny was about to continue inside when he spoke. 

“The Black family has a long history in the magical world, and many ties to all the prominent wizarding families. Your family is the same way, though the Weasleys don't have the dark stains that my family does. Many of the old guard fear the inward creep of muggle culture into our society, they think it makes us weak -- makes us like them -- but they differ on how to deal with that. It's not what we believe,” he added, gesturing to include the Potter's cottage, or maybe Godric's Hollow as a whole, “But some of the kids there will have been taught that. They don't really know much about all that muggles have accomplished without magic -- electricity, plumbing, airplanes, computers. So they dismiss it out of hand. They'll think less of what you know about the muggle world…”

“Then I'll prove them wrong,” interrupted Ginny, thinking of Draco Malfoy's prejudice in the robe shop, of how Hagrid's wand was broken and how finding a job for him was hard because of who he was… what he was. “I'll prove them all wrong.”

Sirius smiled, taking another long draw from his pipe before coughing. “Damn right you will!” He gave a hearty laugh and leaned over, tapping the burnt contents of his pipe into the garden soil. “Lily won't notice that, will she? She doesn't like me smoking back here, but that'll be our little secret. Well, one of them.”

* * *

Ginny slurped unconsciously at her cereal, eating the hard, boring bits first and leaving the marshmallows for last. Lily had gone into the nearest muggle town to get the cereal, but she'd insisted it wasn't a problem. It was _ basically _ still Ginny's birthday anyway.

James sat across from her, sipping lightly at his tea as he read the morning issue of _ The Prophet. _ After a few minutes, he tossed the paper aside in disgust. Ginny could still see the headline emblazoned across the page, ‘ _ Will Potter's Power Hungry Parliament Be The End of Personal Liberty?’ _

James sighed, his exhale heavy with fatigue. “I wish I was heading back to Hogwarts with you lot. Merlin, I miss the place.” He looked up at Ginny, watching as she tried to corral half the marshmallows into a single spoonful. “Not a bad system you've got there. Saving all the best bits for last? They say delayed gratification is an early sign of success.”

Ginny shrugged, not exactly sure what he meant. “I just like biting into a full mouth of marshmallows.”

James smiled. “You know, I used to eat poached eggs like that when I was your age. I'd put the whole thing in my mouth at once, feeling the yoke burst when I finally bit down. My dad thought I was crazy.”

“I've never poached for eggs before, isn't that illegal? Or not for wizards?” 

“Oh, it's just a way of cooking things.” He watched as she shoveled the last spoonful in her mouth, doing her best to keep milk from dripping down her chin.

“So,” continued Ginny after swallowing, “There's a wizards parliament too? Is that what the paper is about?”

James exhaled, leaning back in his chair. “We have one now, but we only started it about nine years ago, after the war. The Order was a big part of getting it started, but we met a lot of resistance. We still do, really. Every motion I bring forward manages to irk one of the representatives from the Heritage Party, and they'll do whatever they can to derail the whole thing. And the _ Prophet _ eats it up; they couldn't care less about it when we were trying to get it running or convincing people to vote, but now I can't go a week without some hit piece about me from Rita Skeeter.”

Ginny nodded, wondering if James would think it was strange if she drank the milk from her bowl. She didn't see Lily around, so she chanced it and was rewarded with indifference. “I think that sounds like our parliament. Or the muggle parliament, I mean. Ms. Brown said there's never been a polite conversation about politics or religion, so it's best to avoid them both.”

James laughed, reaching out to ruffle Ginny's hair. “I'm starting to think she might be right. But some things we've got to fight for, even when it's hard. Lily and I want to make a safer world for you kids than the one we grew up in, and sometimes that means sacrifices. If it keeps _ him _and his kind away from power, then it's all worth it.”

_ Him. _The one who'd murdered her family over some stupid prediction. “But he's gone, isn't he? Isn't that why I'm famous or something?”

James frowned, staring at Ginny for a few moments as if deciding what she could know. “He was defeated, then, but not destroyed. Honestly, we don't know enough about what happened, but we're learning. He's imprisoned in Azkaban now, under heavy security and very, well, _ changed. _”

“Why doesn't anyone say his name? Is it wrong?” 

James chuckled nervously. “No, we always called him Voldemort when we were in the Order. Most people don't like to think about it, though. They refer to him as if it's some taboo, as if it wasn't real only a decade ago. Saying his name makes it real to them, and that makes them afraid.” James stared deeply into his tea, lost in thought. “I guess after a while, I started doing it too, because it was easier.”

* * *

“That dive was absolutely mental!” cheered Fred, clapping Ginny on the shoulder. “You're a regular daredevil, Ginny. I bet if you practice hard at school you've got a shot at making the squad. You're a natural on the broom.”

“What, nothing about me? I blocked the shot!” Ron crossed his arms, giving Fred a healthy dose of side eye.

George jumped in, grabbing Ron from behind. “Oh no, we've forgotten Ronnikins, our little flower that wilts without praise. It was a lovely save Ron, shades of a young Oliver Wood.”

“I blocked two of yours too, you know,” mumbled Ron, shoving his hands into his pocket.

“They were great saves Ron, honest.” Harry clapped him on the back, throwing his arm over his shoulder. “Wood's almost graduated, and you'll make the reserve squad for sure this year.”

Ron smiled, nodding along to Harry's words. “Yeah, thanks mate. You're right.”

James walked in through the back door, his face flushed with exhilaration. “That was brilliant, great flying all around. I'll be seeing the quidditch cup in Gryffindor hands this year! Do you think Dumbledore would let me watch practices sometimes, Lily? Would it be weird to ask?”

Lily walked in carrying a large pitcher of iced tea, a whole set of glasses floating jauntily in her wake. “Is that before or after you ask him to rejoin the team?” she joked, her fingers tracing James's jaw line lovingly.

The boys all laughed, and Ginny felt herself break into a huge grin. Maybe this was what being in a family was like? Sometimes it felt almost too good to be true, but she'd resolved to enjoy every moment of it she could. 

“Wait, love, I think you're onto something here. We could have an alumni game! Bring the old squads back for a match. Merlin, I'd love to beat Philip Avery again. Remember when I did a barrel roll in the cup match against Slytherin fifth year? I thought he was going to drop off his broom in shock!”

“Isn't he in Azkaban now? I thought he'd gotten the kiss for that attack at Heathrow with the muggles?”

“Oh that's right. I don't suppose he'd be much competition now. Still, I bet it would be a hit with the old crowd. Skeeter would probably say I'm off playing at quidditch while neglecting my duties, though.” James paused, shaking his head in silence. In a few moments he was smiling again, though, his melancholy no match for his unbridled enthusiasm. “It's too bad we don't have another two, we're so close to a full squad. Can you imagine, we could use the Gryffindor team photo for our Christmas post.”

“As if you and Sirius don't qualify as children,” scoffed Lily. “And don't forget Ginny hasn't been sorted yet, maybe she'll end up in Hufflepuff and take the cup.”

James groaned, “Oh I hope not, I'd never hear the end of it from Amos.”


	3. Under The Milky Way

##  **Under The Milky Way**

_ And it's something quite peculiar _

_ Something shimmering and white _

_ It leads you here, despite your destination _

_ Under the Milky Way tonight _

_ Wish I knew what you were looking for _

_ Might have known what you would find _

_ Wish I knew what you were looking for _

_ Might have known what you would find _

  * __Church, 1988__

Follow along to [ Ginny’s Mixtape ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3kDLc9BK6sFjDCQ9lpZNyv)

* * *

Ginny stared at the solid brick wall between platforms nine and ten. She'd just watched her brothers and Harry go through, but it still felt crazy to walk straight at the wall.

“Take it at a run, trust me,” said James, ruffling her hair lightly. “I've seen how you took to a broom, just commit to it. You can do it. Now go!”

Ginny smiled, feeling her cheeks warm at the praise and attention. The Potters had been so welcoming to her, and as excited as she was about school, she knew she'd miss them. Ginny took off toward the wall, even hopping onto the back of her cart and riding it through at full tilt.

On the other side, she hit Ron's cart at full speed, sending her cauldron clanging across the ground. Cleo leapt gracefully to Harry's cart and avoided the whole mishap.

“Hey, watch it! If my trunk spills you're repacking it!” hollered Ron, though Ginny knew he wasn't really mad. At least not until his ears turned as red as hers did.

“See what I said Lee? She's brilliant, absolutely brilliant,” exclaimed Fred, patting another boy on the back.

“One to take on the family legacy, once we've retired,” answered George, smirking.

“Oi, what about me?” asked Ron. 

“Oh Ronnikins, don't you think we'd love to?”

“I'm sorry to say it, but you don't have the gift, kid. But hey, if we all had it, it wouldn't be special, would it?” Fred reasoned.

Ron threw them all a menacing glare and stomped off, only to return and finish repacking his cart. “Stupid gits,” he mumbled, just as Lily and James walked through the passageway. 

“Ronald, that is no way to talk to your brothers,” she scolded lightly, adjusting his sweater. “I don't want any owls from McGonagall this year, I mean it. And that goes for you, too, Harry. Both of you will keep an eye on Ginny for us, alright?”

James chuckled, scratching Cleo affectionately behind the ear. “Oh, I think Ginny's in good hands with this one,” he said, winking at Ginny.

She watched Harry hug his mom, giving her a sweet smile and answering her in a low voice. “Don't worry, she'll be great, mom. We'll be around, and I bet she'll get Gryffindor as well.”

Ginny picked her cat up, setting her back on top of her cart. There was so much excitement as students boarded the train and caught each other up on their summers apart, but she felt separate from it all. Still, it was much better than the mob in Flourish & Blotts, or the adoring crowd in the Leaky Cauldron.

“Alright, come now, or you'll all miss the train. Try to get the compartment behind the professor's dining car, that's where the snack lady starts her route and when she’ll be fully stocked. Trust a veteran,” smiled James, tapping his nose.

* * *

“Over here Ginny, you can sit with us in our compartment. Ron, have you seen Hermione?” asked Harry, stowing his bag in the luggage rack. 

“Probably studying _ Hogwarts, A History _ in case she missed anything from the last hundred times she's read it.” Ron lounged across the car, loosening his Gryffindor tie mere minutes after Lily had straightened it for him.

“I'll have you know that there are plenty of useful things in that book, Ronald, and one read through is simply not enough to absorb it all. I'm sure Harry will… Oh, who is…? Oh!”

A girl with bushy brown hair had stopped in the doorway of their compartment, her eyes fixed on Ginny. She had the same red and gold colors as Ron and Harry did, so she must be in Gryffindor too.

“You’re Hermione, right?” Ginny tested, extending her hand. Ron and Harry had told her a few Hermione stories, and it was clear who was the brains behind their crew. “I'm Ginny, Ginny Weasley.”

“Well, of course you are. I've read all about you, but it's mostly just theory. You were raised by muggles weren't you? My parents are muggles, dentists actually. Can you believe that wizards don't have dentists? I suppose they just magic away their cavities.” She paused, lost in thought for a moment. “Hmmm… maybe I'll find something about it in the library.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “We've barely gotten on the train and she's already going on about the library! I swear, I'd guess she'd be a Ravenclaw if I hadn't seen her handle McGonagall after we fought that troll.”

“Troll?” asked Ginny. How many creatures_ actually _ existed that she didn't know about? 

“Yeah! ” continued Ron, excited. “Last year Quirrell let a troll into the school to try and cause a distraction. We fought it and won ten points for Gryffindor, knocked it clean out with its own club!” 

“It was five points, Ron,” Hermione corrected, though Ginny could see she was fighting a smile. 

Ron pulled out his wand and mimicked a spell, looking at Harry excitedly. “Swish and flick, right mate?”

“Someone let a troll into the school?” asked Ginny, unsure of how much to believe. “That seems rather dangerous, doesn't it? Weren't you all first years then?”

“Oh yeah, it was wicked dangerous,” added Harry. “It turns out Professor Quirrell was working with _ You Know Who _ to try to steal a philosopher's stone so he could get his body back.”

There was only one wizard that Ginny had heard referred to so tangentially: Voldemort. “He… he was at Hogwarts last year? I thought he was in wizard prison after I…well… ” She did her best to disguise the fear in her voice. 

Even though she'd never known the terror of his reign, Ginny could tell that other people were frightened just thinking about it. Saying his name was too much for them, and if what she'd been told was true, this Voldemort would want revenge for her survival.

“Well he's locked up in Azkaban now, stuck on the back of Quirrell's head!” laughed Ron, missing her hesitation. “Dumbledore and the other professors made some trap for him. Apparently he almost got out too, but they caught him in the very last room, just moments from getting the stone.”

Harry caught Ginny's eye, something like nervousness stirring in his expression. “No one's ever escaped from Azkaban, you know. Dad says he's locked up forever.”

Ginny nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Locked up wasn't the same as dead, and that's what she wished for this Voldemort who had taken so much from her. So much she never knew she had. 

* * *

Ginny left her brother and his friends, following Hagrid's booming voice as she fought her way through the crowded platform.

“All first years with me! Gather around now, and don't mind the rain, you'll be warm as a roast when we get up to the castle.”

Ginny joined Hagrid near the front, regretting that she hadn’t bothered meeting other first years on the train. She kept her backpack with her, though most of the kids had left their other belongings on the train with their trunks. There was something comforting about knowing she still controlled this one little thing.

“Doing alright there? You left your cat on the train, right? Don't want her falling in the lake during this storm.”

Ginny nodded, wondering why the students were going across the lake if it was unsafe for their pets, but she said nothing. She was getting the impression that the magical world didn’t really bother with that sort of thing. Hagrid stepped into the first of the boats, the small wooden craft leaving the dock as soon as he had taken his seat. Ginny stepped into the next one with three other students, one carrying a bulky old camera that nearly tipped him over the side.

“Oh wow, I can't believe it! You're Ginevra Weasley, aren't you? Oh man, I can't wait to tell Dennis, he won't believe it!” He pulled the camera up to his eye and snapped a quick photo, the flash a brilliant white against the stormy skies. “I'm Colin by the way, Colin Creevey. Real big fan of yours!” 

Ginny stared at him, surprised at how forward he was about everything. “Could you ask me first, if you're going to take a picture?” She asked, nearly shouting over the crashing thunder.

“You want another one? I've only got a little film, but sure I can do that! Maybe we can switch places so I can get the castle in the background?” 

A blonde girl wearing a pair of whimsical earrings reached out her hand and slowly tipped the camera down, stopping him in his tracks. “You can save the rest for inside the castle, maybe for the sorting? Anyway, my father said the giant squid gets seizures from too many flashing lights. But not from lightning, isn't that funny?”

“Giant squid?” asked the boy, his camera still half raised as he scanned the waters choppy surface. They all shifted a little closer to the center of the boat, Ginny telling herself it was for warmth. 

“Well yes,” answered the girl matter-of-factly, “how else would they keep kelpies from moving in? The merpeople would be beside themselves trying to keep them from eating their seaweed fields.”

She smiled sweetly at Ginny, her eyes bright and seeming slightly unfocused, as if her mind had already moved to other matters. “I'm Luna Lovegood, it's a pleasure to meet you.”

“Ginny Weasley. And thank you, Luna.”

“Oh, it's no trouble. I just want to make sure that the squid is safe.” A flash of lightning glinted off her earrings, and Ginny could make out the shape of two large squids.

“Is that why you wore those earrings today?”

“Oh these? Yes, though I don't think I'll get to show the squid today. I suppose I have seven whole years, I'm sure I'll find my chance.” She paused, staring deep into the choppy waters. “I made them from abalone shells, you know?”

“You're new to magic, right? That's what I heard at least,” added the fourth passenger of their little boat, finally speaking up as they approached the other side of the lake.

“Oh yeah, it was such a shock when I found out! I couldn't believe magic was real, isn't it exciting?”

“I didn't ask you, Creevey, I was talking to the _ Chosen One _ over here.” The boy nodded his head toward Ginny, his face painted with a sneer. “And if you point that thing at me, it's going in the lake and so are you.”

The boy was already wearing a green scarf, though Ginny knew none of them had been sorted yet. Another future Slytherin, thinking they knew better and were better. “Yeah I'm new to magic, what of it?” 

“Merlin, so it is true. That old coot Dumbledore really did have you raised by muggles. Well, you'll soon learn that certain people aren't worth your time, especially someone with a name like yours. Don't waste your breath on mudbloods like Creevey or crazies like Lovegood and her father, you don't want to get caught up with the wrong type of people.”

Ginny stood over him, her eyes narrowed as she balanced on the rocking boat. “Oh I've had about enough unwanted advice from snobs like you who think they know better than me. I may not have grown up with magic, but I grew up in London and I know how to throw a punch. If you don't want to meet the squid today, you'd better shut it.”

“What? You think you could take me? You're just a little girl who doesn't know her place yet.”

“That's probably what _ You Know Who _thought too, before his downfall,” stated Luna, her voice airy and light. Stepping onto the dock, she extended her hand to Ginny. “I hope they've a fire going, don't you?” 

* * *

Ginny shuffled into the Great Hall, feeling exposed despite the press of first years all around her. Everyone would know her secret in just a few minutes and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She shivered even as the warmth quickly returned to her hands. They'd all already know about her, have opinions about her, have expectations of her -- it was suffocating.

As her eyes darted around frantically, her feelings of dread were replaced by wonder. Above her roiled dark clouds with distant flashes of lightning, the twin of the storm outside played out for her on the ceiling above. Candles floated about the long tables, their light flickering in brilliant splendor along the massive hall.

Along one of the closer tables, the one with a large green snake banner hanging above it, sat Draco Malfoy. He was staring at her, the disgust plastered as securely to his face as his slick hair. Suddenly she felt stronger, more sure of herself. They'd know her secret, but they didn't know yet. She would walk to the hat with her head held high, taking her time as she made her way to the chair. She wouldn't turn if they whispered or yelled or laughed, she would be like a stone. She stared straight back at Draco, her face a dispassionate mask of boredom.

Professor McGonagall strode to the front of the room, conjuring a stool just before the dais where the teachers all sat. She carefully placed a tattered old hat on the stool, adjusting it just so. Putting her wand to her throat, she spoke, her voice magically magnified to fill the enormous space.

“New students, welcome to your first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!” She clapped for them along with the rest of the teachers and students. “Tonight we'll begin with sorting each of you into one of our four houses. Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw.”

Her speech was punctuated by cheers at the mention of each house, but the Professor only smiled at their enthusiasm and waited for them to finish. “Before you sits the Sorting Hat; an heirloom of our school and a gift from our founders many, many years ago. I will call each of you forward to sit and wear the Sorting Hat. Thank you.”

Ginny peered ahead to get a better look. How would the hat sort her? No one had exactly been clear about it, but for some reason she assumed it was a simple matter. Was there some sort of test?

The hat seemed to sit upright, making a sound as if clearing its throat. 

“_Oh, listen closely, dear students, _

_ Though tonight may decide your fate, _

_ Please, do not fear your Sorting, _

_ You need only sit and wait! _

_ For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat, _

_ And I can see what must be seen, _

_ I've sorted every famous noggin _

_ In Britain that there's been! _

_ I'll sort through all the rubbish, _

_ The dreams and nightmares too, _

_ So I've a good accounting _

_ Of what it means to be you. _

_ So relax and know I've got this handled, _

_ I've experience up to the brim, _

_ It's on my plate to examine your traits, _

_ And divide you on a whim! _

_ Maybe you'll be in Ravenclaw, _

_ Where clever minds do abound, _

_ Or in cunning Slytherin, _

_ Where ambition is often found. _

_ You might be placed in Hufflepuff, _

_ Where dwell those true and just, _

_ Or perhaps in Gryffindor, _

_ In whose bravery we can trust. _

_ So settle down newcomers, _

_ Relax upon my stool, _

_ Let me perform the single job _

_ I'm still allowed at school. _

_ Come to me with noble heart, _

_ With cunning mind and wit, _

_ Come to me with bravery, _

_ And a bum so you can sit! _

Ginny stared quietly at the hat, unsure of how to feel. It would be seeing through her secrets? That was unsettling, but at least she didn't have to answer any questions in front of the school.

She watched, transfixed, as the hat barked out the various houses as different students were called forward to be sorted. With each fresh sorting, the receiving house would burst into applause, welcoming their newest member.

“Creevey, Colin,” read Professor McGonagall. The mousy boy from the boat walked forward, his camera still slung around his neck. There were some audible sniggers from the Slytherin table, most loudly from Malfoy. She threw him a cold glare, but he met her eyes, smiling in that lopsided way that said ‘_ you're no threat to me’. _

“GRYFFINDOR!” roared the hat, Colin nearly falling off the stool as he jumped at the sound. Ginny figured she was at least braver than he was, so she'd probably be fine. Right? 

The Gryffindors all jumped to their feet, and she could see Harry and Ron clapping Colin on the back, his face pale and drawn but smiling. She looked back at Malfoy, but he'd lost interest, instead waving off a newly sorted Slytherin who had tried to sit next to him.

A few students later, Luna was called forward. She nearly skipped to the front, sitting promptly atop the stool and jamming the Sorting Hat over her head.

“RAVENCLAW!” shouted the hat after a moment, and Ginny smiled as Luna set it down and planted a kiss atop it. She hoped these houses weren't too strict, Luna seemed like someone worth getting to know better.

Morag MacDougall went to Hufflepuff, then Owen Mountbatten went to Ravenclaw. A name, a house, a cheer, over and over and over, droning like a metronome in her head. She would be the last student called, she knew it. Maybe there would be a Thomas Zachariah or a Penelope Yang to go after her, but the first years had been a group of only forty to start and their numbers were dwindling fast. Everyone would be sitting there, watching her.

“Selwyn, Harper.”

The boy from the boat shouldered past her, sneering. _ So that was his name, _thought Ginny, silently committing it to memory for later. She'd be naive to assume this school wouldn't be as cutthroat as any other new school she'd been transferred into. Maybe even worse.

“SLYTHERIN!” shouted the hat, hardly touching his head. Ginny watched him make his way to the Slytherin table, hating the way he strut, the way he smirked. Malfoy caught her staring and gave her that idiotic smile, clearly thinking he was intimidating. He'd probably think she'd be next, his surprise evident as McGonagall moved past Shelton and on to Smith. The surprise morphed into confusion, and he continued to stare openly at her, unsure.

Ginny took a little pleasure in knowing that he hadn't figured out who she was by the time her name was called. She was the second to last one, thankfully. Holding her head high, she strode to the front, using every bit of self control to keep her steps measured. Whispers slowly bloomed around her, little pockets of _ It's really her _ and _ She's so small, how could she have beaten You Know Who? _ and _ I thought she'd be prettier. _ Ginny kept her eyes trained on the Sorting Hat, knowing she couldn't flinch or slip, then they'd know she was weak. She couldn't give them the satisfaction.

Professor McGonagall gave her a kind smile, carefully placing the hat on her head, and the room went silent and dark. 

Ginny opened her eyes, and though she knew she was wearing the hat, she felt as if she sat in the center of a stone hall, a light shining on her from somewhere above. She could hear a murmur of voices, disembodied and echoing.

_ She should be mine, none of you could cope with this much raw potential. You'd choke this rose with your rules and rigors before it could blossom. Give her to me; I'll feed her ambition and vanity, I'll starve her weaknesses and harden her for greatness. She even speaks as I once did. There's so much power in her blood, the pure blood of a true witch, untainted by dangerous ideals…she belongs in Slytherin. _

_ Of course you'd look at blood first, Salazar. If you looked at her heart, you'd see there's no weakness there. She has a just and loyal heart, but she's been so hurt. I could bring her healing in Hufflepuff. She needs a fertile place to grow, and learn to bring healing to others. The world will need healers if the dark days come again. She belongs in Hufflepuff, you'll see. _

_ You say she's not weak, Helga, and then propose to coddle her? No, all this excess sentimentality is ridiculous. If she doesn't have it now, don't breed it into her. She's more than just strong, she quick and clever, and she's learned a little wisdom too. She could remake the world, if just given the right guidance. Ravenclaw could provide that. She needs to be challenged and mentored, let me work with this one. I can show her the way. _

_ Ha! She may be all these things, but she's brave to the very core. Look at her, she's a fighter, she's got true grit. She's persistent and courageous, a truer Gryffindor I've never seen. You see a pureblood, Salazar, but I see generations of brave Gryffindors. It's her legacy. And she'll need to strengthen that courage and resolve for the days to come. _

_ “Don't I get a say in all this?” shouted Ginny, her skin prickling under all this scrutiny. “I'm not like those other Slytherins, I won't be a dark witch.” _

_ Silence reigned for a few moments, and Ginny could feel their eyes on her, even though she couldn't see them. Should she have kept silent? Were they waiting for something more? “I want to be with my family, I've just met them, and I think I deserve a chance to be with them.” _

_ Well Salazar, what do you think of that? Not many have the courage to state their intentions before us, and it's been years since we've had someone object to our reasoning. That's why I claim her now for… _

“GRYFFINDOR!” shouted the hat, the words echoing in Ginny's ears. She blinked, surprised to find herself seated back in the Great Hall. The roar from the Gryffindor table was deafening, even McGonagall was openly clapping, forgetting there was still a final student to be sorted. 

Ginny walked to her new house table, Ron jumping up and wrapping her in a hug that Fred and George soon joined. Ginny swelled with joy, somehow it would all work out, she knew it. She couldn't remember ever being held like this, wanted like this. It was all she could do to keep from crying as she took her seat, not even bothered that she was right next to Colin Creevey. Lee Jordan and the twins were the last to sit, dancing a jig as they chanted “we've got the Chosen One!” directly at the Slytherin table.

“Congratulations, Ginny,” said Harry, reaching across the table and grabbing her hand.

She felt a flush threaten to creep up her neck and face, hoping she could somehow keep it down. It felt so nice, in that moment, to feel his hand against hers. 

The moment drew on, and Harry pulled his hand away. His cheeks were a little flushed too, and Ginny quickly averted her eyes. Was he embarrassed by her? Had she held his hand for too long? Why didn’t she know what to do when he was here, why was she always acting so strange?

“Erm… thank you, Harry. I’m just… relieved.”

Harry smiled, glancing at her before looking away. “I’m relieved, too.”


	4. Everybody Wants To Rule The World

##  **Everybody Wants To Rule The World**

_ It's my own design _

_ It's my own remorse _

_ Help me to decide _

_ Help me make the most _

_ Of freedom and of pleasure _

_ Nothing ever lasts forever _

_ Everybody wants to rule the world _

  * __Tears for Fears, 1985__

Follow along to [ Ginny’s Mixtape ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3kDLc9BK6sFjDCQ9lpZNyv)

* * *

“I found out about the empty bed.”

Ginny roused herself from sleep, dimly aware of the conversation unfolding around her. She had three other roommates, but there was an empty bed for a fourth who'd never come.

“Her parents are Muggles; apparently when they heard about what happened last year, they didn't want her coming here anymore. Just dropped everything and moved to America,” cooed Tabitha, the resident gossip. She smiled wide, her eyes daring them to ask how she’d found out.

“America, huh? Lost another good one to the colonies,” mocked Ada. She was from an old wizarding family, the Shafiqs, and had treated Ginny’s fame with a relaxed indifference that was comforting.

“So it really did happen? You Know Who is back, then?” asked Heather as she glanced at Ginny furtively, her eyes going wide before flitting to the floor.

Ada shrugged, clearly unconcerned. “Yeah, but they caught him. Now his soul's being sucked in Azkaban or whatever. You know, I heard he was just a face on the back of some guy's head, isn't that gross? Ginny, you gotten any breakfast yet? The house elves won’t deliver, trust me, I’ve tried.” Her face slid into an easy smile as she leaned against the doorframe, waiting. 

“Fine, I'll come; give me a minute to get dressed. And what are house elves?”

“They’re elves for houses,” she stated, as if it were obvious. “Hermione can fill you in on the rest; she's even starting a club, I heard.”

Ginny shook her head, mentally adding it to the endless list of things she’d need to research. ‘_ I need to talk to Hermione about batteries, anyway’ _, she thought, stuffing her Walkman into her bag. Only the muggle born kids knew what batteries were, and none of them knew how to get more. She was down to her last set and she knew they wouldn't last long.

Ada blocked her way, giving Ginny a significant glance. “Come on, don't go writing in your diary and listening to that thing the whole time, we haven’t had a nice day all week. Aren’t you supposed to be the girl who _ lived_? At least a little bit?”

There was a sharp intake of breath from Heather and Tabitha, but Ginny just shrugged. “Fine, we'll go outside first, I promise. I probably should practice some flying anyway.”

“Finally,” huffed Ada heading down the stairs. “You have to talk to me, too, though. I don't want to go trying to make another friend. Also, did you finish Charms homework yet? I've been thinking about the third question, can I see what you got? Plus all the ones after that?”

Ada fixed Ginny with such a pleading look that she couldn't help but laugh. "Fine, if you help me with history."

“Thank you! You know I love you right, Ginny?”

“Heaps and heaps,” she answered, fishing through her bag to find her Charms scroll. She still couldn't believe wizards used things like scrolls and vellum. What was wrong with loose leaf?

To Ginny’s surprise, the quidditch pitch was nearly empty. Ada explained that the third years and above could go to Hogsmeade on certain weekends, her own brothers having made the trip earlier that morning. It was a perfect opportunity to focus on her flying without anyone watching her, though she expected Creevey would somehow get wind that she was flying and come ruin the peace and quiet.

The air shimmered with heat as Ginny flew, though the chill from the rushing wind was enough to keep her from breaking a sweat. She wasn't looking forward to flying during cold weather, though. How did players manage to keep hold of their brooms during winter matches?

Ginny landed heavily next to Ada, nearly spilling off her broom in fatigue. She'd been running the drills that James had shown her, but she was still concerned she wouldn't be ready for tryouts when the time came. It had barely been a few weeks since she'd even known quidditch was a sport, so she had to cram in whatever practice she could and just hope for the best.

“Excellent flying, Ms. Weasley. You've taken to the air quite capably, I'm very impressed.”

Ginny hadn't seen Professor McGonagall approach, though she was now leaning against the gate that let out onto the pitch. There was something uncanny about it; Ginny could've sworn she hadn't seen anyone as she flew her last lap above the stands a few moments before.

“Thank you, Professor. I'm hoping to make the team this year, as a chaser.”

McGonagall frowned, her mouth pinching into a thin line. “I'm afraid that might be a problem, Ms. Weasley, as first year's aren't typically allowed to join their house teams.”

Ginny stared back at her, feeling confused. She couldn't join? Why had she been practicing so hard just to be excluded again? Why had no one told her?

“Aren't _ typically _ allowed, because Harry Potter made the team last year,” explained Ada, continuing to flip through the latest issue of _ Witch Weekly. _

“Well, yes. There were extenuating circumstances, and the decision was cleared with each head of house as well as Madam Hooch,” answered McGonagall, clearly surprised to be challenged.

“Oh, circumstances like the fact that his dad is an MP?”

McGonagall's eyes narrowed. “No, of course not. We don't allow special treatment for political reasons.”

Ginny nodded, just wanting the conversation to end so she could run back to her room and bury her head under the covers. Or maybe she'd write to Tom in the diary, he would understand. He knew she'd been counting on this.

“So special treatment is okay for other reasons? I heard from Tabitha that Draco Malfoy's father was buying new brooms for his full team. He says he'll be seeker for sure this year, but that's probably because he worked so hard at it,” Ada answered, smiling sweetly.

“I must say, you've a great deal in common with your brothers, Ms. Shafiq. I expect you've more to say on the matter?” said the Professor, her voice clipped. 

Ada shifted in her seat, facing Ginny and McGonagall. “Well, it's just that there are so many exceptions to the rules. A decade ago it was Amos McGovern who was allowed to be beater first year since not enough players tried out. And then a few years before that it was Calliope Salisbury, and before that it was Tamara Ducard. I haven't read about it much, but it does seem to keep happening. It just seems unfair that Ginny couldn't try out, because she's a girl and all.”

Professor McGonagall removed her glasses, inspecting them offhandedly as she spoke. “You know, Ms. Shafiq, you may have a point. If Madam Hooch doesn't see a problem with it, I don't see why first years should be barred from joining. Can you get a list of names to me? I'll address it with Headmaster Dumbledore at the earliest convenience. Now you must excuse me; and do enjoy your afternoon, dears.”

Ginny watched as the professor headed back up toward the castle, afraid that she'd turn any moment and change her mind. “Wow, Ada, I thought you couldn't care less about quidditch! How did you know all those names like that?” 

Ada smiled weakly, her face burning slightly with embarrassment, “Honestly, they're all names of panel judges for the _ Witch Weekly _ Fall Fashion Fundraiser next week.” She turned the magazine toward Ginny, the trio's faces smiling widely as they waved at the camera. “We'll have to find some real names in the library, but I'm sure we can do it; they probably have a whole section on quidditch at Hogwarts.”

* * *

Ginny flicked her wrist delicately, intoning the spell in a sure voice. Her target, a large feather, spun a little before flipping over. '_It's nowhere near floating_,' she thought, collapsing back against the couch in the common room. She had been so excited to come to Hogwarts, but now she was beginning to feel the pressure. Everyone seemed to expect so much from her as the ‘Chosen One’, even though she'd hardly spent any time with a wand in her hand. She needed to get this right, needed to prove that she belonged here, too.

“I can show you, if you'd like,” offered Harry, reaching for his wand. “This one I'll never forget. It's levi-O-sa, not levi-o-SA,” he said, his voice a poor mimicry of Hermione's clipped tone. 

Harry cast the spell, emphasizing the pronunciation, and sent the feather floating above their heads. He let it hang for a few moments before snatching it from the air and placing it before Ginny. “Give it another try. This is the spell Ron used to knock out that troll last year. First time he ever did it right, too!” 

Ginny smiled, turning her attention back to the feather. She supposed it was a bit like learning languages, where the _ way _ you said the word really mattered. She imagined the word in her head, repeating it like a mantra to herself until it was all she thought.

“Wingardium leviosa,” cast Ginny in a level tone, her wand glowing with the incantation. The feather floated upward, swaying lightly in the air from the open window. She exhaled a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. She _ could _ do it.

The feather shot into the air, rising up to the ceiling and swirling among the rafters, out of reach.

“Look at that, still got it!” cheered Ron, gesturing with his wand as his laughter cut across the common room. He raised his hand to Hermione, but she scowled and went back to her essay. “Oh, come on,” he implored, “this one's my specialty.”

Ginny frowned. She enjoyed hanging out with their group, but always felt a step outside it. There were too many stories she hadn't shared, too many things that she would only understand if she'd been there. She caught Harry looking before he turned away, busying himself with his wand as he tried to retrieve the feather.

“_Accio,_” cast Harry, the feather zipping straight back to him. He smiled sheepishly and set it before Ginny, pocketing his wand. “That was real good, by the way.”

Harry gathered his things and stood to join Ron and Hermione. They were probably heading off to plan some exciting new adventure together, without Ginny. She sighed, committing the second spell to memory. '_Accio_,' she thought, repeating it over and over and imagining the way he'd moved his wrist._ 'Accio, Accio, Accio.' _

She gathered her things too, not wanting to sit around on the outskirts of their little group, unincluded. Maybe she could practice the new spell Harry had used. Or visit Hagrid. She hadn't seen him since the night of the Sorting, it would be good to visit him.

_'Then again,' _ she thought, '_he's probably too busy working.' _Tom wouldn't be busy, though. He had no one else; no one to share secrets with or talk to except her. She took the stairs to her shared room two at a time, dumping her homework onto the bed in a pile. Cleo looked up at her briefly, stretching languidly in a little ray of sunshine before dozing back off.

Ever since Ada had brought up the diary, Ginny had been more careful about who saw her writing in it. Tom had made it very clear that she should keep it a secret, and that she'd likely get into all sorts of trouble for it if a teacher found out. So she'd taken to stashing it in the second floor girls bathroom. It was always out of order, which seemed odd for a school that was so entirely magical, though the presence of a ghost made the hiding spot less than ideal. Ginny vowed to find another one when she had the chance.

Grabbing the diary, and _ almost _ managing to avoid alerting Moaning Myrtle, Ginny headed for the library. Madam Pince stared at her over the edge of a large tome, her eyes tracking Ginny’s movements to ensure she didn’t stray toward the Restricted Section. Locking books away in a library seemed strange, but she was wary enough to keep her distance. Who knew what else wizard books could do?

Ginny found an unused study nook and pulled out the diary. She wondered if she was bothering Tom with all her writing. Should she only talk to him about important things? Would he think her problems were silly or stupid? He’d listened to everything she’d had to say without complaint, but Ginny was afraid of scaring him off by being too needy. Maybe that's why Harry, Ron, and Hermione all hung out without her. 

“That’s a lovely looking book. What a beautiful green tone, like a snake's scales.”

Ginny looked up in alarm, seeing Luna seated on the floor near two rows of shelves. She was wearing a strange pair of glasses, her hands waving lazily in a beam of sunlight that shone from the tall windows.

“Oh, I’m sorry Luna, I didn’t see you there.”

“That’s alright, I’m busy looking for beam shrimp. This is a particularly good patch. It must have something to do with the books here.”

“Beam shrimp?” asked Ginny, incredulous. Behind her, Madam Pince made an audible shush sound, shaking her head as if scandalized.

“Yes, of course,” continued Luna, lowering her voice to an airy whisper. “They usually prefer the indoors, especially libraries and schools.”

“Why?”

“They feed on all the forgotten knowledge, of course. I bet there’s plenty of it here.” Luna leaned over, carefully setting the glasses over Ginny’s eyes.

The stray sunbeam shimmered with tiny flashes of light, all swaying to some unseen current. Ginny shifted her head, watching as the kaleidoscopic image shifted and multiplied, folding in on itself. “Where does it go then? The knowledge they feed on, I mean.”

“Oh, I don’t think anyone knows that," whispered Luna. "Maybe I’ll study it one day.” 

* * *

“Wait, so we’re going to visit like, the gardener? Why?” Ada asked, flicking her wand absentmindedly and sending a pile of stones tumbling. 

“No, you weren’t even listening, were you?” grumbled Ginny, stuffing her hands in her pockets.

“No, I was busy smiling at Harry to see if I could make him blush. And he did by the way, after like, one second,” Ada laughed, clearly proud of herself.

Ginny frowned but didn’t say anything. She didn’t like that Ada was toying with Harry, but she didn’t know what to say about it. Ada would probably just tease her anyway. It's not like she _ liked _him. Ginny looked up to see Ada’s eyes on her, her lips drawn into a smug smile. Too late.

“Anyway, what I said earlier was that Hagrid is the groundskeeper, and I wanted to go visit him. Are you coming or not?” Sometimes Ada could be a bit posh, and Ginny was a little worried what she’d think of Hagrid. At least until she got to know him.

Ada shrugged, splaying her arms out to the side. “My parents would hate the idea of me spending time with ‘the help’, so naturally I’m all for it. Is he like a crazy old guy or something?”

“You must’ve seen him, he’s taller than all the teachers and has a great big beard.” Hagrid had told her, on purpose or not, that he was part giant. But Ginny saw the way others sometimes treated him when they suspected it, like Malfoy. It wasn't her secret to share.

“Oh, of course, from the trip across the lake! Alright, what are we waiting for?”

“Nothing, I guess,” answered Ginny, shaking her head. They were almost to Hagrid's anyway.

Hagrid's hut was a cozy fit for his large frame, but he looked comfortable there nonetheless. A large bloodhound eagerly greeted Ginny, jumping up and licking her face. She made a mental note to avoid bringing Cleo here. 

“Down Fang!” scolded Hagrid, reaching for the dog's collar as he barked excitedly around the newcomers, trying to jump on each of them.

Ada stepped forward and snapped her fingers at Fang, her eyes stern. “Down, Fang, this instant,” she intoned, her words brooking no argument. The dog quieted immediately, looking at her as it sat back on its haunches.

“Woah, how did you do that?” Ginny had seen her share of unruly dogs, but never someone quieting them down so effectively. Was it some sort of spell?

Ada shrugged. “We've got dogs and crups. You just need to establish that you're the alpha and they'll fall in line.”

Hagrid looked abashed as he set about making tea. “Show ‘im who's alpha? You don' think I've done that?” he muttered, shaking his head. 

“Probably not, from what I hear you're a big softy.” Ada reached out, scratching Fang behind the ear. “We've got to be firm with the crups, they're vicious to outsiders and muggles, so if they get loose it becomes a whole ‘to do’ with the Ministry. Or at least that's what father always says when I try to walk them without a leash.”

“You're right about them being vicious, but they're loyal as they come. With their family, o' course. You're right about me being a softy, too. But don't go telling everyone now, a man's got to have his reputation.” Hagrid laughed, the booming sound feeling too big for his small home. He extended his hand, easily encompassing Ada's. “Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys and Grounds 'ere at Hogwarts. Most folks just call me Hagrid.”

“And I'm Ada Shafiq,” she answered, smiling broadly.

* * *

“Alright class, turn to page thirty seven. We've covered enough theory for now, we'll begin with brewing a Hiccoughing potion as our first foray into the field,” instructed Professor Slughorn. “Now I hope you've all been listening and paying attention, as you'll only have your text to guide you. Find a partner in your house and begin.”

Ada was some sort of Potions genius and had tested into Advanced Potions, so she wasn't an option. Ginny looked around quickly, knowing that she wouldn't be the first choice. She occupied a strange spot in the student hierarchy: not old enough to be deferred to like the older students, but also too famous -- and too much of a target -- to be easy for someone to approach. So she tended to keep to herself when she could, but these situations were inevitable.

“We can partner. If you'd like, I mean.”

Creevey. Of course it would be Creevey. For the first two weeks he felt like her unofficial shadow; floating behind her, snapping photos of her, asking for her autograph. Again. How many things of his or his brother's did she have to sign?

“It's alright if you don't want to. My dad says I come on too strong sometimes.”

“No, it's fine Colin. Can we just be normal partners though?”

Colin nodded eagerly, not noticing that he was clearly her only remaining option. Everyone else had already paired up. “Don't worry, I can do this. I was great in science class, during experiments. I bet potions isn't so different.”

“More ‘eyes of newt’ and fewer bunsen burners, I expect,” answered Ginny, skimming the ingredients list in the textbook.

“That's a good one!” laughed Colin, drawing a look from Professor Slughorn. “But really, it isn't much different, I've read a bit about potions. These ingredients make this, those make that. It's all following directions, at least for first years.”

“Does it really count as magic then, if it’s just following directions? What’s the magic part?” asked Ginny, wondering if they'd have to fill out lab reports and document reactions.

“An excellent question, Ms. Weasley,” answered Professor Slughorn, who'd been making his rounds behind them. “As there is very little wand-waving here, many of you will hardly think of Potions as magic. And it's true, it's not an _ active _ magic, like Charms or Transfiguration. And, yet again, it's not dealing with something _ visibly _ and _ obviously _ magic, like Care for Magical Creatures or flying atop a broom. Potions, as a discipline, is what I like to call _ passive _ magic. If we’re to equate it with wand magic, the casting of the spell is the brewing of the potion. The effect of the spell is when that potion has been used and its purpose fulfilled. The gap between those two events is part of what gives Potions an advantage. It gives you the _ time _ to prepare, or to delay.

"The second part of that advantage is its transferability." The professor drew his wand and cast a few quick spells, conjuring a set of figures to demonstrate. "Try as you might, you couldn't cast Madam Pomfrey's healing spell. She would need to be there and cast it herself. She could, however, brew a potion and give it to you, to be used at the time and place of your choosing."

Slughorn made his way back to the front of the classroom, stirring his cauldron with an exaggerated flare. “Not many understand the beauty of a softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses. For those of you who have the gift or the dedication, I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death. That, my dear students, is the beauty and magic of Potions. It is choosing your outcome _ now, _ when you have full control of your ingredients and time, and creating magic that will act _ later, _at a moment of your choosing -- and often with very little evidence to show for it. And if you can't see the value of that advantage, then I don't suppose there will be much I'm able to teach you.”

After finishing his speech, Slughorn made his way back to Ginny's table. “Ms. Weasley,” he said, his voice low but not yet a whisper, “if you'll see me after class?”

“Yes, professor, of course,” nodded Ginny, panic rising in her chest. Had she already gotten into trouble?

The class quickly went back to work, Colin eagerly arranging their ingredients into their respective piles as Ginny read the instructions over a second time. She needed to do well on this and prove she could handle it.

“You know,” added Colin, now using the handle of his knife to crush beetle shells, “I think I was wrong before, this feels a lot more like baking. My mom's a real talent with it, all the PTA moms always tell her so. She lets me help sometimes, too.”

Ginny nodded, wishing he'd stop speaking so she could think for a minute. All these ingredients and measurements were new to her, and she wanted to understand all the steps before she got started.

“Here,” said Colin, carefully sliding their supply of acacia bark to Ginny's side. “We just need to strip the dark bits off this, then they'll go into the cauldron. You can do it like this.” He demonstrated by scraping the edge of the knife along the bark, the darkened outer edges flaking off as he went.

Ginny took the knife and started on the pile, finding comfort in the repetitiveness of the task. After she finished the bark, she stirred the cauldron and watched for boiling, keeping everything steady as Colin added his beetle shells. By the end of the class, Ginny was smiling and sweating a little over the cauldron, their mixture a thin amber liquid with small strips of stewing bark.

“We're almost out of time class, so I'll be coming around to review your concoctions. I'd like to see a nice amber color in your cauldrons, light and fluid.” He wandered slowly through the tables, giving the different pairs of students varying levels of feedback. Their potion received high marks, though Ginny had stirred a little too rapidly when adding drops of the peppermint oil. Slughorn didn't seem to mind though, awarding them each a point for Gryffindor.

As she packed up her things, Ginny reached out and poked Colin. “Hey, thanks for the help. You were right about Potions, best to just follow the instructions.”

Colin's eyes lit with joy, “Oh, I mean, of course! Always happy to help the Chosen One!” 

Ginny frowned. “Can you stop calling me that? I'm not any different than the other kids, you know? I was just a baby when it all happened, it's not like I knew what I was doing. You're just as much the reason we won points today as I am. I just… want to be a normal kid. I want to earn my place.”

Colin nodded, seeming to think about it for a moment. “You're right, I'm sorry. Maybe just Ginny from here on out then?” 

Ginny smiled. “That works for me.”

After the class had all filed out of the dungeons, Ginny approached Professor Slughorn hesitantly. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Oh Ginevra, of course. Do please take a seat. First order of business: wonderful performance over the cauldron today, you and Mr. Creevey made a fine team. I'm sure we'll make a potions master of you yet. But that wasn't why I wanted to talk to you.” 

Had Selwyn or Malfoy lied about her, to get her in trouble? She schooled her face back to neutral, watching the professor in silence.

“You see, I've been known to be a bit of a collector,” he said, gesturing vaguely to a wall of signed photographs and memorabilia. “But not of these trinkets; instead the incredible and talented individuals they represent.

“It's a bit crass to refer to it that way, I think, but not far from the truth. I like to take a special interest in some of my pupils, ones that have that extra bit of talent or ambition, and really help foster their growth here at Hogwarts.”

Ginny exhaled, realizing she'd been holding her breath. “Like an advisor?” she asked, trying to equate it with her muggle schooling.

“I suppose,” answered Slughorn, “but I think of myself as more of a mentor. I'd like you to come to our next gathering, on Halloween. It will give you a chance to meet students across all four houses and all seven years, ones that I've personally selected and worked with, generally. It's an elite group, Ginevra, and one that could be very beneficial for your future.”

“Of course,” replied Ginny without really thinking. She was just relieved that she wasn't in trouble. 

“I'll send an invitation once it's all settled, and do let me know if there is anything you need, my dear.”

* * *

Ginny banked hard to the left, barely able to snag the quaffle out of the air before she dropped into another breakneck dive. Wood, the captain, was having the chasers play two versus two, one of the starters on either side, and Ginny was having the time of her life. She feinted left, squaring up as if to take a shot at the left ring, and McClaggen took the bait. Dropping the quaffle behind her, Ginny continued her feint as Angelina Johnson caught it and scored on the open ring to the right.

“Damn it!” shouted McClaggen, who was up for the reserve keeper spot. He'd been able to block a few shots, but Ginny and Angelina were evading him almost every time now. Ron was faring a little better, but Katie Bell hadn't missed a shot yet. Ginny hoped his blocks from the reserve chaser, Haddaway, would be enough to keep him in the running to make the roster.

“Great play there, Weasley, I love the teamwork. I want to see you take more runs at the goal though, I've already seen plenty of Angelina.”

“Too much of me to handle, Oliver?” called out Angelina, looping around him on her broom before heading back to play defense. Wood, for his part, stayed focused on the tryouts.

Ginny squared up against Haddaway, caught somewhere between thinking frantically about quidditch strategy and relying on her instincts from football. Most of it translated well, but it took some practice to actually use her hands to catch the quaffle instead of fearing the referee would call a handball on her.

Haddaway passed to Bell, trying to find his way around Ginny. She was using an old school broom, a Cleansweep 7, so she had trouble keeping up with him on straight sprints, but her weight gave her an advantage on turns and twists.

“If you think I'm going to let a _ first year _ beat me for _ my _ spot, you're going to be disappointed, Chosen One or no,” he shouted, finding himself blocked by Ginny once again. He pushed ahead, trying to outrun her for the goals. Katie Bell tossed a long pass, arcing high above them as Haddaway rushed to grab it. 

“The spot was always mine,” countered Ginny, pulling up hard on her broom. "You were just keeping it warm for me." She leaned low, streamlining herself against the wood as she raced up to catch the quaffle in its arc. Ginny managed to tap it with her fingertips as it sailed overhead, catching it firmly as she corrected into another dive.

It was now her against McClaggen, having left the other chasers behind. She sped for the far goal, twisting at the last second and firing at the middle ring. McClaggen saw through the feint this time and managed to block it but the quaffle bounced back toward Ginny. She kept her hands grasped tightly on the broom and swung to the side, kicking the rebounding quaffle. The red ball arced hard to the left, bouncing off the inside edge of the ring as she scored. Ginny managed to steer her broom back upright, but the view of the pitch so far below her was enough to send shivers down her spine.

“Wood, come on, that's obviously a violation or something! She can't kick it can she?” shouted McClaggen, his face red with fury. Ginny was close enough that she could see the spittle from his lips as he yelled. 

“It was the craziest thing I've ever seen, and that's saying a lot,” countered Wood, clearly impressed. “I think I've seen enough for today. Pack it all in and I'll speak with each of you separately. Weasley, I'll see you first.”

“Oh yes, Mr. Wood, sir!” shouted Fred and George from below. They were busy practicing juggling their beaters’ bats as no other beaters had bothered trying out.

“You lot know I meant your sister, now get to the locker room before I cut you two out of spite.”

Ginny helped clean up the equipment before heading over to Wood. Harry and Ron were the last to leave, Harry giving her a warm smile and thumbs up before heading off the pitch. She forced her nerves to settle; everything was going to be alright. It was just her first year anyway.

“Well now that's some of the most daredevil flying I've ever seen at Hogwarts,” said Wood, sitting on a crate across from her. “You've got some incredible raw talent, and your instincts from muggle sports serve you well. I liked how well you worked with Angelina today, but your shot needs a lot of work before you're really a threat out there.”

Ginny tried to keep her composure, but felt crestfallen. She knew it was going to come to her shots, in the end. She'd never trained to _ throw _at the goal, just kick at it. Johnson and Bell each had incredible arms, their shots whizzing through the air like angry bees. If only she'd had more time to practice. 

“Yes, sir, thank you for the advice. And the chance.” Ginny stood, ready to go. She hated that she felt the urge to cry bubble within her, but she maintained her composure. She always had next year.

Wood laughed, gesturing for her to sit back down. “Maybe you need to have your eyes checked too, if you think I'm about to cut you after that display. No, I want you working on drills with Katie and Angelina. They're some of the best chasers Hogwarts has seen in my time and probably much longer, they've got plenty to teach you about quidditch.”

Ginny could feel her heart beating hard in her chest; so she'd made the team? It was almost too good to be true. “They won't mind, training with me? If I'm reserve?” 

“They'll be training with you as third chaser, Ginny,” laughed Wood. “And they better not mind if they want to win this year.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Slughorn's potions speech is, of course, heavily influenced by the text of Snape's potions speech in Sorcerer's Stone with some additions and edits on my part


	5. It’s My Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important: this day in wizard history, Harry James Potter delivered an unforgivable curse level burn to Snape! 
> 
> “Do you remember me telling you we are practicing non-verbal spells, Potter?"  
"Yes," said Harry stiffly.  
"Yes, sir."  
"There's no need to call me "sir" Professor."  
The words had escaped him before he knew what he was saying.
> 
> [blvnk's hinny art perfectly captures a Potter household celebration of this memory, and it's one of my favorites!](https://blvnk-art.tumblr.com/post/178435566114)

##  **It’s My Life**

_ Funny how I blind myself, I never knew _

_ If I was sometimes played upon, afraid to lose _

_ I'd tell myself, what good you do _

_ Convince myself _

_ It's my life, don't you forget _

_ It's my life, it never ends (It never ends) _

  * __Talk Talk, 1984__

Follow along to [ Ginny’s Mixtape ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3kDLc9BK6sFjDCQ9lpZNyv)

* * *

“Don't think I've forgotten about you, Weasley. Not after that stunt you tried to pull.”

_ Malfoy, _she thought, malice bubbling deep within. Of course he'd show up just when things started getting better. 

“I'm sorry, Draco, I'm not doing autographs right now,” sighed Ginny, not bothering to turn from her breakfast. Beside her Ada snorted, almost spilling her porridge.

“Look, you _ blood traitor mongrel, _” snarled Malfoy, earning a shocked intake of breath from the other Gryffindors sitting nearby. “You look at me when I'm speaking to you.”

Ginny didn't know what he meant by ‘blood traitor’, but she'd been involved in enough schoolyard fights to know what would come next. She stood and faced Malfoy, his two cronies, Crabbe and Goyle, standing on either side of him. She didn't care. To back down now would only encourage him, only let him think he'd won.

Ginny took a step toward Malfoy, satisfied to see him back away slightly. There was always some new name being used to justify denying her. She wasn’t _ enough _ because she was a girl. A ginger. An orphan. A blood traitor. She was always just _ something, _ to them, not someone. Not Ginny. And it wasn't just the ones that hated her. She heard it in the whispers of _ Chosen One_, saw it in the way their eyes flicked to her scar. Tom had been right about that too.

“What do you want, Draco? You think you can bully me in front of the whole school? But you aren't brave enough to try anything in front of the teachers, are you?” Ginny could feel him bristling at her taunts, his face contorted with rage. Good, she wanted him to be angry. She was angry too.

“I used to think you were sorted Slytherin because you're an evil git, but now I understand. Not brave enough for Gryffindor, not loyal enough for Hufflepuff, and not clever enough for Ravenclaw. Doesn't leave many options, does it?” she snapped, ticking off the houses on her fingers.

“Damn!” shouted Dean Thomas, seated a few places down the table, clapping. Goyle leaned toward Ginny, cracking his knuckles menacingly. '_One day,' _ thought Ginny, '_I’ll transform that one into a pig. Or at least transfigure a snout onto his face, he’s nearly there anyway.' _

“You should watch your mouth when you're talking to your betters, Weasley,” spat Malfoy, the bright red of his cheeks stark against his blond hair. “If you know what's good for you.”

“Or what?” Ginny asked, refusing to back down.

Malfoy's eyes bulged in rage, and he jammed his hand into his robes, drawing his wand. But Ginny was faster, not even bothering with her wand and punching him straight in the nose. He doubled back, clutching his face as he stumbled into Crabbe. Goyle just stood there, dumbfounded.

“Do something, Goyle! She's broken my nose, do something!” whined Malfoy, blood starting to drip from his fingers.

“You'll do no such thing, Mr. Goyle. All of you, into my office immediately.” Professor McGonagall snapped her fingers at them, brooking no argument. “I will not allow such conduct in this school and certainly not from a member of my own house. That will be five points from each of you involved.”

Ginny walked between Crabbe and Goyle, their large forms stooped under McGonagall's gaze. Draco continued to glare at her as they walked, but she ignored him. He was only bluster, after all.

“I'm very disappointed in all of you,” ground out McGonagall when they'd all taken a seat in her office. Ginny listened half-heartedly, the familiar admonitions of being foolish and reckless and a disappointment doing little to improve her sour mood. She'd been foolish to hope for anything else, coming to Hogwarts, but she'd hoped all the same. After the professor’s lengthy lecture, they were dismissed without incident. Ginny hesitated, waiting for the others to leave.

“What's a blood traitor, professor? Does it have to do with muggles?” she asked, fidgeting with the fabric covering the armrest.

“I see. I suppose Mr. Malfoy called you one?”

Ginny shrugged. She wasn't about to become a snitch; she could handle Malfoy on her own. _ 'Running to the professor will only show your weakness,' _ whispered Tom's voice at the edge of her mind. _ 'Then they'll eat you alive.' _

“I wondered if something of the sort had transpired. Your brother Ronald and Harry Potter always seem to be butting heads with those three.” She paused, considering it for a moment before returning to the question. “A blood traitor -- in the eyes of those who value blood purity -- is someone who supports rights for muggle-born witches and wizards. They believe their pure magical blood makes them better than other witches and wizards, and muggles doubly so. It's a term of hate and doesn’t belong in this school.”

Ginny nodded, expecting something of the sort. “Thank you, Professor,” she said, rising to leave.

“In a way, I believe your father wore it as a badge of honor. He was fascinated by muggle creations and things, he even worked in the Muggle Relations Department at the Ministry, I believe.” McGonagall sighed, her eyes heavy as they stared over her spectacles. “I'm sorry you had to endure that, Ms. Weasley. This will not go unpunished, you have my word. Headmaster Dumbledore will hear of this.”

Ginny shook her head adamantly “Please, Professor, you don't have to. I don't want them to think I ran for help. But thank you for telling me. About my dad, I mean.”

* * *

There was an audible _ click _ followed by silence. Ginny sighed, feeling the frustration build somewhere below the surface. She flipped open the tape deck and checked to make sure the cassette was working properly, then checked her headphones. It was stupid; she already knew what the problem was, she was just too afraid to face it. Finally, she popped out the batteries and switched them, hoping against hope that they'd work. Still nothing, of course.

Ginny had known this day was coming, when her Walkman's batteries finally died. She hadn't gotten around to finding any new ones yet, and she still felt uncomfortable asking the Potters to find them for her. Lily probably wouldn't mind, but Ginny didn't want them to think of her as a burden. She needed to figure this out for herself.

Leaning against the wall, Ginny let herself slide down to the floor. She was in some hallway she wasn't very familiar with, a large statue of a gargoyle set in an alcove nearby.

It was Saturday, and a nice one too, so most of the students were outside on the grounds. Ginny felt lonely, but she didn't want to share her grief with anyone. They wouldn't understand why it was so important to her, wouldn't understand what losing this meant to her. Tom might, but she was embarrassed to tell him. She didn't want to look weak by needing this. Tom was smart and charming and was even Head Boy; he probably never doubted himself.

As Ginny wavered between wanting to scream and cry, the statue in the alcove began to turn, the sound of stone grinding against stone muffling the inner mechanism. A stairway appeared in its place with an older wizard descending.

_ 'Headmaster Dumbledore', _ thought Ginny with frustration. ‘_Of course he'd show up now.’ _

“Ginevra,” he said, his voice calm and measured, without a hint of surprise. “I don't suppose you were looking for me?” 

“No,” answered Ginny. She knew it was rude but couldn't bring herself to care. If Dumbledore noticed, he seemed unfazed.

“Well then, it must be that I was looking for you,” he answered, smiling easily. “Would you care to come and see my office? You seem to have a lot on your mind.”

Ginny shrugged, but followed him back up the stairs nonetheless. There was something about the look in his eyes that made her feel uncomfortable, like he knew much more than he was letting on. ‘_Well,’ _ she thought, ‘_I'm sure he does_.’

Seated upstairs, Ginny placed her Walkman on the desk, the dead batteries rolling haphazardly across the surface before coming to a stop against a complicated looking globe of some type. The whole office was filled with incredible things she'd never seen, but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of appearing overly interested. “Yes, headmaster?” She didn't bother trying to hide the annoyance in her voice.

Dumbledore smiled again, his eyes twinkling like a skinny Father Christmas. “How are you adjusting to Hogwarts, my dear? Everything is to your liking, I hope?”

She shrugged, feeling rebellious. “I like some things well enough.” It was an understatement, of course. Everything about Hogwarts and magic was incredible, Ginny just wished she felt like she was a part of it. Like she belonged. 

“That's good to hear, and I hope our little school continues to grow on you. Is there anything you wanted to ask me, Ginevra? Or do you prefer Ginny?” 

“Ginny,” she said, the name sounding clipped even to her ears. She had questions, _ plenty _ of questions. Why was _ she _the one who was attacked? Why had she been adopted by muggles? Why hadn't anyone told her about magic, or how her family was murdered? Or that some still lived? But one question stood out from the rest.

“Why did you let the muggles send me into the foster system, alone? Why didn't you stop it? I… I never knew anything.”

Dumbledore watched her from across the desk, his gaze steady and sharp, and Ginny had the unsettling feeling that he was sifting through her thoughts. “I didn't prevent you from being sent into the muggle foster system, not because I couldn't, but because I chose not to. It was my idea that you be adopted by muggle parents as well.”

Ginny sat quietly, shocked into silence. She hadn't expected him to admit it, she was used to being blown off by adults. “Why?” she finally mumbled, barely above a whisper. For all her raging fury, she still felt completely powerless.

He smiled, but Ginny could tell there was something else behind his expression that she didn't understand. “At first, I thought it was best that you grew up away from all the rabid fame attached to your defeat of Voldemort. Both for your personal development and, of course, your safety.

“There were too many of Voldemort's followers who saw their chance at revenge or resurrection in you, too many in power who wanted to use you for their own purposes. But after the Shelton's were killed in that tragic car accident…”

“Wait,” interrupted Ginny, sitting up straight in her chair, “you knew about the car accident?”

Dumbledore nodded, “I arrived after the muggles had already taken you to the hospital. Your magic had prevented you from coming to any serious harm, thankfully, but I had a decision to make. A decision that I hope you will one day understand, and maybe forgive.”

Ginny stared back at him hard, wanting to scream and throw things. “Why do you get to decide what happens to me?” 

The headmaster steeped his fingers, matching Ginny's stare. “The nature of the magical protection I'd placed on you meant that without your adoptive parents, I was the only one who knew where you were. The muggles had already started the process of finding care for you, and I chose not to interfere. I didn't know the validity of the rumors, whether Voldemort needed you to return to his full power, but I couldn't risk losing you to them if there was any truth to it.”

“So you sent me away, just in case? Because of a rumor?” Ginny stood, beginning to pace the room. She knew it was rude but couldn’t care less about that right now. Her family murdered over a _ prophecy_, and then she was left in the muggle system, forgotten, over a _ rumor. _She was just a kid and it sounded crazy even to her. No, Tom had taught her how these wizards worked, there was always a trick to their actions. “It doesn’t make any sense. You just… just wanted to cut me off from everyone, so you could control me! To use me when it's convenient!”

He didn’t take the bait though, keeping his seat and searching Ginny’s eyes, his own filled with sadness. “It was not a decision that I was proud to make, Ginny, and I’m sorry for the experience you’ve had. Unfortunately the danger is greater now than it was then, the simple truth is that I cannot hide you any longer. There is a great deal about magic that you do not yet understand…”

“And whose fault is that?” snapped Ginny, nearly shouting as her blood boiled in her veins. It felt _ good _ to let him know she was angry, it felt _ right. _ She grabbed her Walkman, remembering the dead batteries and feeling the fresh pain of loss all over again.

Ginny crossed back to the desk. “Can you at least fix this for me? The batteries are dead.” She hated asking for his help; if she'd just been smarter or better she could have done it herself. At least then she wouldn't feel like she owed him something, if he even decided to help.

“Sounds a good deal like necromancy,” he chuckled, adjusting his spectacles as he stared at the batteries in his hand, prodding them experimentally. “Professor Burbage in our Muggle Studies department will be able to help you best. Electricity and the latent magics around Hogwarts have a tendency to react violently, but Charity is quite accomplished in the field and will know how best to proceed.”

Ginny took the batteries back, turning and leaving without another word.

* * *

_ G: And after all that, he blew me off about fixing my tape player! He's supposed to be this powerful wizard and he won't even do that for me? You were right about him, he just wanted me hidden away so only he could use me, whenever it was best for him. He wanted to keep me weak and in the dark. _

_ T: I'm glad that you can see it too, Ginny. What's this tape player that you mentioned? _

_ G: It's a muggle thing, it plays music. _

_ T: I thought you were leaving your muggle life behind you, Ginny. Those ties will only hold you back and blind you to the truth about muggles. _

_ G: It's not like I can use it now anyway. What do you mean, 'the truth about muggles'? _

_ T: There's good reason we hide our world from theirs: they seek to destroy anything different from themselves. Throughout history, they've hunted witches and wizards, proven time and again that they are a base species, prone to violence. _

_ G: They're not all like that Tom, there are peaceful muggles… _

_ T: Of course there are, but they aren't the ones in power. You're a child now, Ginny, but that innocence won't last forever. I watched them slaughter each other during their second World War; building machines of destruction, their cities reduced to smoking craters. I've seen them round each other up in cages, killing with their weapons and poisons and explosions. If they can show such cruelty and malice to their own kind, what would they try to do to us? _

* * *

“Are you going, too?”

Ginny turned to see Harry dressed in his full school robes, holding his own copy of Slughorn's invitation. ‘_ Had he been excited to see me? It sounded like it, and he's finally alone,’ _she thought, her stomach doing a little flip just thinking about it.

“Yeah, me too." She hoped the blush she felt on her cheeks wasn't too obvious.

“Great,” answered Harry, his smile easy. “I hate going to these alone, but mum says I should. She was in Slug Club too, when she was at Hogwarts.”

On their way to the dungeons, Ginny was surprised to hear somber harpsichord music accompanied by a ghostly, wailing violin.

“That's… kind of creepy. Is that what Slughorn always plays at these things?”

Harry shook his head and checked his watch. “No, I think it's Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday party. It's his five hundredth.”

“I suppose for a ghost, that's a bit like a birthday," Ginny considered. "How do people become ghosts anyway?”

Harry shrugged, “Sirius says they have unfinished business they can't move beyond, so they choose to stay. Seems like a bad choice, you know? Nick’s always mopey. I suppose it all gets boring after five hundred years, watching everyone do things you can't do anymore.”

“Maybe Halloween isn't a very good death day? It might be like having your birthday on Christmas; it's always about everyone else on your special day,” Ginny guessed.

“I like that, Halloween is Christmas for ghosts!” laughed Harry.

Ginny felt herself flush, keeping her eyes trained on the ground even as a smile crept across her face. She'd heard some of the girls whisper about Harry Potter, with his cute curly hair and his quidditch talent. She guessed that since they lived together now, maybe it was strange to think about him like that, too. But it just felt different with Harry.

At Slughorn's party, Ginny found a large and varied gathering of students -- and even a few adults -- mingling sociably as the Professor made his rounds. The way he'd mentioned these events she'd expected more of a dinner party, but tonight's event seemed to be a special occasion.

“He's searching for his next class of _ recruits, _ you know?” offered Draco Malfoy, leaning against a bookshelf and regarding them coldly. He was holding a goblet of apple cider and trying to put on an air of sophistication. He was failing. “You probably haven't realized how little connection you have with the people who _ actually matter _ in the wizarding world, have you Weasley? You'll soon learn it's who you know that is important. Unless that's why you've latched onto Potter here. It's certainly not for his hair,” he added, slicking his own back. 

Harry frowned, stepping up to Malfoy, “Shove off Malfoy, she's _ Ginny Weasley _ for Merlin's sake! They'll line up to get to know _ her. _Go sour someone else's punch.”

Their little argument had drawn the room's attention, and now there really was a line forming to meet her. Ginny smiled sheepishly, shaking hands with older students and alumni. She was sure some of them were famous, based on how the people around her were acting, but she had no context for any of it. They were, at least, much more relaxed than the mobs she'd faced in Diagon Alley.

“Gwenog Jones, of the Hollyhead Harpies. Wonderful to meet you Ginny. Horace says you've made the Gryffindor squad, and as a first year too!”

“Barnabus Cuffe, for the Prophet, Ms. Weasley. Don't worry, I'm no reporter, just the editor,” chuckled the man. “We'll be wanting to do a feature with you soon, by the way. _ The Girl Who Lived, Returned. _It will be all the rage, I'm sure.”

“Cordelia Davenport here Ms. Weasley, you won't have heard of me though. I'm with the Ministry, focusing on Wizard-Muggle relations. Good deal of work we put in trying to locate you, you know. Excited to see what you've got in store for us.”

The introductions felt like they stretched on forever, but Ginny tried to keep a smile on her face and remember the names she could. This was the reason she'd come after all, to learn more about the world of magic. Still, she had been hoping that she'd be able to spend more time with Harry tonight.

The dinner party itself was a rather raucous affair, people loudly shouting stories across the table and moving seats to speak to one another. All the adults seemed to have their share of students orbiting them, likely hoping for some little tidbit to impress their friends with later on. Ginny finally found herself alone with Harry, watching as he slowly prodded a lone pea around his plate.

“I think, well, I think I'd like to go to Nick's Deathday party. It might be boring with a bunch of old ghosts, but you can come, if you'd like. Ron and Hermione will be there too,” offered Harry, noticing that Ginny had returned. 

She felt conflicted; she wanted to spend more time with Harry, but she couldn't shake the feeling that he'd only offered out of pity. '_ He'll always choose his other friends first,' _thought Ginny, remembering Tom's words.

“Oh, I don't know. If it's going to be boring, maybe I should just stay here? I haven't spoken to Professor Slughorn yet,” she hedged, coming up with an excuse. Better to skip it than to go and feel rejected.

“Come on, where else are you going to meet a room full of old ghosts? Nick said the Headless Hunt might come tonight, he's hoping they let him join this year,” prodded Harry.

Ginny could see the hope in his eyes, could feel the way he was smiling at her. It made her feel nervous and exposed and excited, and as frightening as it was, she didn't want it to end. Maybe it was worth it to try. At least just this once.

“Alright, yeah, I'll go then,” answered Ginny, trying to sound casual.

“Great!”

Harry stood, smiling, and Ginny knew she'd made the right decision. Why had she felt so nervous?

From the front of the room, Ginny heard Professor Slughorn speaking in a stern voice, his finger pointed at Professor Lockhart's chest.

“This is a private gathering, Gilderoy, how many more times am I going to need to explain this?”

Lockhart simply grinned: he looked nearly maniacal, his face flushed with embarrassment and his typically coiffed hair starting to fray across his face. “Oh, of course, Horace. I've got better things to do, the fanmail keeps piling up, you see! Ha! I was just coming for, um, Ginny here! You're quite late for our meeting little miss, but fame doesn't wait,” he said, seeing Ginny as she approached the door.

Ginny felt sick to her stomach. _ Why couldn't anything just work out? _ It was like she was cursed; every good thing stolen from her before she could enjoy it. Maybe she was never meant to be happy.

“Tell me about Nick's later?” Ginny asked, taking some solace from Harry's disappointment. He nodded, holding her eyes as she waved and left the room.

Ginny fretted as she followed Lockhart through the school, frustrated about the whole affair. The worst part was that _ her _ choices had set it all in motion. If only she hadn't agreed to look at their 'joint fanmail' from the Diagon Alley photographs, if she'd just said ‘no’ instead of saying ‘maybe’ when he'd offered to mentor her… _ ‘At least I'll learn the lesson this time _,’ she thought ruefully.

After two hours of helping Lockhart answer his fan mail, Ginny was ready to scream. Hardly any of the mail had to do with his _ feats _ that he was so proud of; most of it from housewitches who had fallen in love with his hair or ‘_Witch Weekly's _best smile’. It was nauseating.

“Ginevra,” he intoned in his nasally voice, “I don't feel like I'm really getting your best efforts right now. Don't go burning out on me, you're much too young to look all washed up!” Lockhart laughed, impressed and amused by himself, as always.

Ginny shrugged, feeling the tightness in her back. Wasn't she supposed to be too young to get sore from sitting? “It's getting late professor, it's past ten already. Can I go to bed soon?” 

“Oh my, time _ does _fly when you're having fun, doesn't it? You can run along then, and next time we'll work on restyling your image.”

“My image?” Ginny asked, instantly regretting implying any interest. There would be no avoiding him now.

“Yes, of course. You can't be _ the girl who lived _forever, your fans will get bored of it eventually. Do you even remember what happened to Constance Canterlily when she kept wearing those same dress robes to the annual gala?”

“Um… no?”

“My point exactly! The whole school girl thing is cute for now, but you want fame on your terms. We can take control of the story and tell it the way we want it told.”

Ginny stared at him, wondering when he'd inserted himself into the process. Maybe he was always like this; that's how he'd acted at the bookstore too. “I don't know, Professor. I don't like being famous for something I didn't _ really _do. I want to make a name for myself, to earn it.”

Lockhart nearly guffawed, clutching his side as clapped Ginny's back, “You're a riot, Ginny. Has anyone ever told you that? Fame isn't about earning anything! It's about making people _ believe _ that you deserve it. It's about _ perception_, not truth. Your story is already out there, are you going to sell it or are you going to let someone else do it?”

* * *

_ “DIGGORY BLOCKS POTTER JUST IN TIME, AND THE SNITCH IS ONCE AGAIN OUT OF SIGHT, GRYFFINDOR WILL NEED TO TRY AGAIN!” _echoed Lee Jordan's magically magnified voice over the pitch. Ginny let out a low huff of disappointment, but really she was having the time of her life.

Hufflepuff's chasers were no match for Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell, and Ginny had managed to score a few times as well. Her practice had paid off, the chaser formations and plays coming naturally to her. Still, they needed to keep the pressure up. They had a safety cushion of two goals, two hundred to thirty, so Diggory couldn't catch the snitch without also losing.

Finally, Harry was able to break away from his pursuit, catching the snitch as it skimmed inches above the pitch. Ginny pulled up on her broom and took a quick victory lap, delighting in the crisp air and the satisfaction of winning. 

As she zoomed low over the Gryffindor section of the stands, her fellow housemates cheering and chanting in celebration, Ginny finally felt at peace. Ever since Tom had told her to focus on magic, she'd taken to daily flying sessions, working on getting her movements down to precision. And he'd been right -- she did belong here: playing quidditch, learning _ magic _ at Hogwarts. It was like all of her best dreams coming true at once. She was always meant for this, meant for something _ more_.

She brought her broom back down to the ground and joined the team in piling on Harry as he clutched the snitch up high. Finally, things were going right. 

* * *

“I still can't stop thinking about that pass, Ginny. You're sure you never played quidditch before?” asked Katie, mimicking the play with a few charmed crisps.

“I played a lot of football before I came to Hogwarts,” explained Ginny. “Most of the basics are the same, at least for chasers and the keeper. I'm still getting used to dodging the bludgers, though.”

“Hmmm,” frowned Wood, watching the crisps dance to Katie's wand movements and taking notes. “You know, we should look into some of those plays for the match against Slytherin. They don't have any muggle borns who would be sharing strategies, though I wouldn't put it past Ravenclaw to spend time researching them. Do you have any books you could bring?”

Ginny shook her head. “Maybe I can find some over break? I'll ask Lily to bring us to the library.”

“Yeah, I bet Sirius could find some too. He's got one of those special passes for the big one in London,” answered George.

“Sirius has a library card?” asked Ginny, surprised. Then again, he had been reading muggle books when she'd met him.

“Right? What a nutter,” laughed Fred, his smile betraying how much he cared for Sirius.

“Hey Ginny, can we talk to you for a minute?” asked Ada, tapping her from behind. She was standing with Colin, a sheepish grin betraying his nervousness.

Ginny turned in her seat, hesitant to get up. Couldn't they see that she was hanging out with the quidditch team? It had taken so long to finally start feeling accepted as a Gryffindor. _ ‘It's not like I'm not spending time with them - why are they trying to control what I do?’ _thought Ginny, frustrated.

“Yeah?”

There was an awkward moment as they clearly expected her to stand, Ada's eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms. “Nevermind, I'm sure it's not that important. I guess we'll see you around.”

“I guess you will,” shrugged Ginny. Ada would get over it soon enough, whatever it was. 

Colin looked between the two of them, his expression worried. “Ada, _ come on, _you know this is important. Ginny, can we talk to you in private? We haven't been seeing you as much, and it's just…”

“We had Potions together first period _ yesterday,_ Colin,” chided Ginny lightly. He couldn't be serious about this, could he? And was Ada really mad? What had she ever done to them?

_ ‘That's just how they'll try to manipulate you,’ _ Tom's voice said, a soft whisper that she'd become accustomed to. _ ‘The pathetic one panders for your attention, craves it. The other is haughty and feigns indifference, but she'd tie you down too. They want what you have.’ _

“That's, well, that's not really what I meant,” stammered Colin. He met Ginny's eyes, matching her stare for a few moments before looking away. “Yeah, I guess I'll see you in class then,” he finally said, turning and following Ada as she left the Great Hall.

Ginny shook her head, blowing out a frustrated breath. It wasn't _her_ fault that he was getting so flustered about whatever they were doing. First it's such a big deal, and then it wasn't? What were they playing at?

She turned back to the quidditch team, the conversation having moved on to plans for the holidays. Angelina Johnson was seeing an uncle in America over Christmas, but most of the team was simply going home. Ginny let herself drift with the conversation, not really participating, just keeping herself occupied and trying not to think about her friends.

Fred tried to catch her eye, leaning back to look at her directly, but Ginny just met his stare, expressionless. He nodded, rejoining the conversation as if nothing had happened. At least she could count on her family to understand that some things just didn't need to be talked about.


	6. Bad Reputation

##  **Bad Reputation**

_ I don't give a damn 'bout my reputation _

_ You're living in the past, it's a new generation _

_ A girl can do what she wants to do and that's what I'm gonna do _

_ An' I don't give a damn 'bout my bad reputation _

_ Oh no, not me _

_ An' I don't give a damn 'bout my reputation _

_ Never said I wanted to improve my station _

_ An' I'm only doin' good when I'm havin' fun _

_ An' I don't have to please no one _

  * __Joan Jett & The Blackhearts, 1981__

Follow along to [Ginny’s Mixtape](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3kDLc9BK6sFjDCQ9lpZNyv)

* * *

Ginny chewed at the nib of her quill absentmindedly, thankful she hadn't inked it yet. Cleo had been acting strangely since last week and it was starting to concern her. She still ate enough, but she'd been moody with Ginny, especially when Ginny had been off writing for a few hours. It seemed silly that Cleo could be getting jealous, though Ginny had been spending less time with her as she'd spent more time writing to Tom.

"Ms. Weasley," droned Professor Binns, his voice nearly putting Ginny to sleep, "are you paying attention? This is all important material for your examinations."

"Yes professor," lied Ginny as she scribbled on her page, "just finishing up my notes."

"And what notes would those be?"

Ginny flushed, trying to recall what he'd been talking about. It always seemed to be either treaties or goblin rebellions, so she took a guess. "The um… goblin treaty, sir."

Binns chuckled to himself, looking around the room for someone else to laugh, but it was silent. "Then you're quite late on your notes, we haven't covered a goblin treaty since last Tuesday. We're on the Wizard's Council, which convened after the Goblin _Rebellion_ of 1612, at Hogsmeade Village."

There was a low din of pages flipping as the other students seemed to wake from their stupor. Ginny silently chastised herself for guessing wrong, though realistically she wasn't _ that _ far off.

"Perhaps, Ms. Weasley, you'd like to bring the rest of the class up to speed once you've caught up on your reading? A summary of the next chapter to be presented during class will suffice, on Clause Three of the Code of Wand Use."

Ginny frowned, annoyed that she'd been singled out. Couldn't he see that no one else was paying attention either? Why did he have to pick on her? Tom's voice whispered in her ear, laughter woven through his words.

_ He just wants to control you, to shame you publicly. He's dead now and was an old fool while alive, haunted forever by his failures. You can't let his type push you around. You can't let him make you feel weak. _

"I'm sorry professor, but I don't think I'll have time to present to the class. I'm far too busy making history to teach it," Ginny quipped, trying to make her voice pleasant.

Binns stared back at her in shock as the students all hooted and hollered at Ginny's words. It took him a few moments to collect himself before he called for the class to quiet down.

"Well, Ms. Weasley, I do hope your lesson plan is quite good as we'll need to make up for the lost ground that today's lesson suffered due to your disruptions. That will be five points from Gryffindor as well, and let that be a reminder to you about speaking out of turn. You can see me after class for the additional topics I'd like you to cover."

Ginny huffed, but kept her mouth shut. She didn't mind being told off, but she also didn't want to lose any more points for her house, especially with Slytherin just behind them in the cup. 

* * *

Ginny heard raised voices from down the hall, the door to a nearby classroom propped open slightly. She approached, careful not to make a sound.

"...it was a stupid risk and we both know it! We should never have agreed to help Lee with his terrible plan…" came George's voice, his words tinged with frustration.

"Well I know that now! We owed it to him after he helped us with the snowballs last year. Hell, it could've been real bad for us if Quirrell had caught us alone, now that we know _ who _was with him," countered Fred angrily.

Ginny knocked on the door, edging it further open once the twins had fallen silent. "Is there something wrong?" she asked, sure they would just shoo her away.

The twins stared at each other for a beat, finally nodding. "Yes, we uh, managed to lose a very valuable piece of parchment," supplied George hesitantly.

"You lost some parchment?" asked Ginny. Why would anyone care?

"Yes, but it's not just any piece of parchment, it's the key to our resounding success, in a way," answered George. "We nicked it from Filch's office our first year and it's guided our path ever since."

Fred shook his head, cutting in. "We got a bit reckless last night and tried to sneak into the dungeons to sabotage the Slytherin common room entrance, but that damn cat Mrs. Norris caught us in the act and we had to run. The parchment was, uh, _ misplaced _ along the way."

"Which is to say Fred dropped it."

"Oi mate, at least we got out of there in time! I could hear Filch wheezing the whole way down the corridor, if he had any clue he'd have caught us for sure! The… uh… parchment actually served as a perfect distraction," argued Fred, trying to convince himself as much as them.

George laughed. "Yeah, well, a bag of gallons would've served just as well then, not our priceless artifact."

Ginny crossed her arms, sitting at a nearby desk. "Are you two done blaming each other yet, or can we move on to figuring out how to get it back?" 

"A Weasley for sure," they both laughed, meeting each other's eyes and favoring Ginny with a smile.

"Right then, let's get to it. You might be just what we need Ginny." Fred got out a bit of paper and began to sketch a rudimentary map. "See, Filch's office is down here, at the end of this long hallway. Mrs. Norris walks up and down here almost every time we go by it, she's got some sixth sense about us I reckon."

"Maybe she's a kneazle?" asked Ginny. 

"Maybe," shrugged George, taking the quill from Fred and sketching another hallway nearby. "This here is on the floor below, right under Filch's office and on the way to the Slytherin common room. We could set off dung bombs here and here," he gestured, "sealing off the pathways to the office, except the one back to our common room. Filch will come looking for us for sure; he knows we don't like it when our plans get interrupted."

"I'll head out to this corridor," continued Fred, outlining another passage. "It leads to Dumbledore's office and should be where Filch heads once he sees our handiwork. We can set off some fireworks and maybe make a run for it. Hopefully that should lead him away and keep him occupied long enough to search his office."

"I assume that's where I come in?"

Fred and George nodded, laying out the rest of the plan and letting Ginny know what she would be looking for. While finding an 'old, blank bit of folded parchment' seemed like it would be a difficult task amongst all the confiscated items, the twins had confidence it wouldn't be too hard to find. After all, they'd just had it taken recently, it _ should _ be within easy reach.

That night, after everyone had headed up to their sleeping quarters, Ginny crept down to the Gryffindor common room. The twins were already downstairs, huddled in front of the fireplace as they adjusted their robes. Fred gave Ginny a thumbs up as George cast a complicated spell to hide Ginny's features.

"Now, hopefully these disguises won't be needed, but they should suffice if someone runs into us. The teachers will wipe them in a moment though. Oh, and if you run into Peeves, just tell him that you're with us and we're going to give Filch hell. He might even join in, if it suits him," advised Fred, clapping Ginny's shoulder. "Ready?"

She nodded, steeling herself for some mischief. She had mostly kept out of trouble since coming to Hogwarts, but any chance to spend time with her brothers was worth it. Ginny wished them good luck and set off toward Filch's office.

The door was locked, of course, but Ginny had been practicing the spell that the twins had taught her. "Alohomora," cast Ginny, trying to keep her voice to a whisper. Nothing happened.

Stepping back, Ginny took a moment to collect herself. _ 'Maybe I'm just nervous,' _she thought, giving herself a shake. She took a deep breath and tried casting it again. And again. And again. Nothing. She'd said the spell correctly, had swept her wand in the same motion as she had during all of her practicing… it didn't make any sense. She could almost feel the magic of the spell leave her, focused by her wand on the door, but then it just… stopped. Like it was hitting a wall.

Ginny frowned, starting to feel the panic build in her mind as the worries set in. Should she try to abort the mission and find Fred and George? They'd probably never include her again if she botched this and they got in trouble. Pacing in front of the door, she decided that giving up now would be best, they could try again another night when she'd gotten the spell down.

The sound of an explosion, muffled by distance, echoed down the hall. _ 'Crap!' _ thought Ginny, panicking. _ 'It's too late, they've already started!' _

She whipped around to the door, frantically casting the spell over and over again, but the lock refused to budge. In desperation, Ginny grabbed the handle and leaned into the door, hoping it would somehow open. 

It was an old door, the lock an antique mechanism with a skeleton key. Ginny had seen these in one of the old foster homes she lived in, it even reminded her of the lock on the old standing clock that Mr. Devenney kept in the hallway when she was seven. He'd stashed his sweets behind the wooden panel, but one of the other foster kids had taught her how to jimmy the door open with a paperclip.

Ginny stopped panicking. _ 'Of course!' _she thought, pulling a bobby pin from her hair and bending it at a right angle. She didn't understand why the spell wouldn't work, but surely a key still would. Or a lockpick. It took her a few minutes to get it right, enough time for the second set of dung bombs to go off, but finally the lock yielded to her touch. Breathing a sigh of relief, she opened the door and slipped inside.

Filch's office wasn't much larger than a closet and was stacked with boxes and boxes of confiscated items. Ginny suspected that the twins had quite a few things taken from them over the years, but clearly the parchment was the most important.

Important, but almost impossible to find in Filch's mess.

After ten minutes of frantic searching, Ginny was getting desperate. Sooner or later Filch would come to his office; probably once he gave up trying to catch Fred and George. In a spark of inspiration, Ginny drew her wand, imagining the parchment as Fred and George had described it.

_ "Accio parchment!" _she cast in a clear voice, pointing her wand toward the desk. Papers exploded from the drawers, settling across the office like freshly fallen snow. Ginny dove into the nearest pile, certain she'd seen a thick piece of yellowed paper as it fell. 

"I'm telling you, it was those damn Weasley boys, they're a plague on my old bones," came Filch's voice from the far end of the hall.

_ 'Too late!' _thought Ginny, spreading the papers across the floor in desperation. Her instincts had been right; she found an old piece of folded paper hidden just below the top layer. Ginny quickly stuffed it in her shirt, grabbing a handful of other papers as she went for the door.

She reached for the handle, feeling the knob turn in her fingers. She was out of time.

"What the…? _ Damn Weasleys! _ Didn't I tell you sir? They've got it out for me." 

Ginny stared into Professor Dumbledore's eyes, dropping some of the papers in her hands "It was, um… an accident, sir."

"You broke into Mr. Filch's office on accident?" he asked, the twinkle in his eye betraying his amusement.

Filch, on the other hand, was fuming as he combed through the scattered papers. "Where is it? Give it back you damn girl, these are my private belongin’s, you know? I've got rights, you hear!"

Ginny looked at the papers she'd grabbed at the last moment, a letter near the top. "Do you mean this?" she asked, reading the letter. "_I'm sorry Mr. Filch, but we must decline your request for a refund. While the Kwikspell products and courses are guaranteed to improve your magical abilities, we cannot improve something that does not exist. We do not make any guarantees for squibs as outlined by our company policy._ What's a squib, sir?" she asked, looking to Dumbledore.

"It's none of your damn business, you nosy little git! Now give that back!" shouted Filch, snatching the letter from her hands.

Dumbledore stared at Ginny, holding her eyes. She did her best to stare back at him without giving anything away. Finally, Dumbledore turned back to the desk, pulling out his wand and setting the office back to order.

"I'd like to speak with you, Ms. Weasley. In my office."

Ginny followed the professor, taking the familiar path back to the hidden staircase. She felt like the parchment was burning against her chest, did he know about it? _ 'Of course not,' _she assured herself angrily, how could he possibly know? All she had to do was keep her head down and get back to the common room in one piece.

"Mr. Filch has informed me that a large number of dung bombs were set off in the corridors to his office and the Slytherin common room. Would you be so kind as to tell me who set those off?" 

Ginny hung her head, trying to look guilty. "That was all me, Professor, they were meant to be a distraction for when I broke into Filch's office."

Dumbledore leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "And why were you breaking into _ Mr. _Filch's office, Ginevra?"

Ginny thought quickly. "Well, you see, I saw Mr. Filch get a letter today at breakfast that made him real upset. He'd stormed off right away, and since he's always picking on my brothers, I told them they should go steal it. They said it was a bad idea, but I wanted to, uh, prove I was a brave Gryffindor. Like them."

"Are you sure no one else was involved?"

Ginny shook her head, doing her best to look remorseful. 

"I'm not angry, Ginevra, but I am disappointed in your callous treatment of Mr. Filch and your disregard for his privacy. You'll be cleaning the mess that your distraction made; without magic, of course. If you would like any help, you can let me know who else was involved tonight and I'll make sure that they join you with bucket and sponge.”

“Fine, you’ve convinced me, Professor. The dung bombs were set off by Draco Malfoy and Harper Selwyn,” Ginny tried, keeping her face steady.

Dumbledore gave her a small smile, a halfhearted and tired thing. He gestured toward the door, dismissing her without another word. Ginny wasn’t looking forward to detention, but at least she hadn’t cost Gryffindor any points for getting caught. If she could win the twins’ trust, it would all be worth it.

“And Ms. Weasley? I’m afraid that I’ll have to deduct thirty points from Gryffindor for your actions. I do hope that you’ll use better judgment in the future.”

“_Thirty?_” snapped Ginny. “For a little prank? That’s ridiculous sir, the detention, I understand…”

“Ms. Weasley, your actions tonight encroached on the privacy of a member of the Hogwarts staff. Mr. Filch is what is known as a ‘squib’ in the wizarding world, a person of magical lineage that is not themselves magical. Outside of the walls of Hogwarts, the laws and protections afforded to wizards are denied to him. In the eyes of our laws, he is considered an invalid. To expose him to ridicule simply because he has no legal standing to defend himself is unacceptable. I hope you understand,” explained Dumbledore, his voice stern and unyielding.

Ginny nodded and headed for the door. How was she going to explain that she’d lost _ thirty points _ in a single night? The other Gryffindors were going to hate her for sure, once they found out.

* * *

“I still can’t believe you managed to get this Ginny, I’m impressed,” acknowledged Fred, turning the parchment over in his hands reverently.

“And after Dumbledore and Filch walked in on you still in the office? Trust me, we’re both impressed,” smilled George, patting Ginny’s shoulder. “We’ve been telling Ron for ages that he’s not the heir apparent to our legacy, and you’ve certainly proven our foresight.”

"I guess," Ginny shrugged. "Dumbledore took _ thirty _ points from Gryffindor, though. Once everyone finds out, I'm toast."

George waved it away. "Points come and go, Ginny. But heroes are remembered. Trust me, we've lost loads more than that in our time."

The twins laughed and pulled Ginny aside to an empty section of the common room. Fred spread the parchment across the table, leaning over and whispering as he tapped it with his wand.

Ginny nearly yelped in surprise as lines and flowing script bloomed from where the wand met the parchment, the intricate web of ink defining itself into a large map. She watched in awe as little dots with nameplates scurried about the hallways. It was mesmerizing. "So this is… a map of Hogwarts?" 

"It's that and so much more. A map of Hogwarts that shows you every floor," George answered.

"_And _ every room and passage, secret or otherwise," supplied Fred. 

"_And _ every single person or ghost with their name and location at this exact moment in time," finished George, grinning nearly ear to ear.

"This map," said Fred, gesturing broadly across the table, "is the key to our incredible success dear sister. It is a gold mine of information, of secrets, and, quite frankly, is some of the most top notch magic we've ever seen. Our secret benefactors were geniuses ahead of their time."

"To Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs," they said in unison, clinking imaginary glasses. 

Ginny smiled, tracing the passages from the Gryffindor common room to her classes. She'd never seen anything like this; maybe Tom knew more about this sort of thing. After all, he'd been Head Boy at Hogwarts during his time, he was bound to know plenty of secrets. "Thank you for showing me," she answered finally, wishing she could study the map instead of head off to serve her detention.

"Of course, it's the least we could do after you got it back _ and _took the fall for it. You're team Weasley, through and through." George laughed, giving her an affectionate tug on one of her braids. "Now off to the trophy room with you, and see if you recognize any names on those awards. You might find something interesting!"

Ginny said her goodbyes and left for detention. It wasn't long before she could smell the stench of the dungbombs, the pungent aroma growing thicker as she neared the trophy room. By the time Ginny was inside, her eyes were nearly watering.

"Maybe this will give you a taste of your own medicine, you little weasel," mumbled Filch from behind a rudimentary gas mask. He propped his feet up and began to read, pointing out the cleaning supplies and waving Ginny off to work.

Ginny tried not to think about the task, instead focusing on the different awards on display and wondering what the winners had been like. She'd have an award here with her name on it one day, she decided.

After two hours, Ginny finally found what the twins had been talking about. Among the quidditch trophies was a name she immediately recognized; James Potter. He'd told her that he'd been quidditch captain, but seeing the trophy for the quidditch cup made all of it seem more real to her.

When Ginny was finally down to the last two cases, she found another name that was familiar to her. _ 'Tom Riddle,' _ she read, her mind racing, _ 'for special services rendered to Hogwarts' _\- whatever that meant.

"Do you know what this award is for?" asked Ginny pointing out Tom's plaque.

Filch stared at her, his eyes narrowed and suspicious. "Do I look like a librarian to you?"

Ginny shrugged, doubling her efforts. She would just go ask Tom once she finished and he'd tell her all about it. Better than learning from some stuffy history book anyway.

* * *

_ G: So, special services to the school, huh? Is that why they made you Head Boy? _

_ T: Hello again, Ginny. No, I was already Head Boy when they gave me that award. I suppose you've seen it, then? I'm surprised they'd leave it on display like that. I'd always expected Dumbledore to hide it once he became headmaster, but I suppose he's too arrogant for that. _

_ G: Hide it? Why? _

_ T: It's too much of a loose end for him, too many prying questions about what really happened all those years ago. When the Chamber was opened. _

_ G: The Chamber? _

_ T: See? Even now he's too afraid to tell the students. The Chamber of Secrets is a hidden lair placed within Hogwarts by Salazar Slytherin himself. It can only be opened by his heir, who will use the monster within to purge the school of those who are unworthy. The Chamber was opened during my final year at Hogwarts. I stopped the heir, but not before a student died and the monster escaped. _

_ G: Who was it, and what kind of monster? And what does Dumbledore have to do with it? Please tell me, Tom. I'm tired of everyone hiding things from me. _

_ T: I'll do better than that, I'll show you. _

Ginny set down her quill, staring at the black letters as they slowly faded. What did he mean? In a moment, however, the pages of the book spun, the ink swirling before her vision like a well drawing her within. She reached, feeling herself slip quietly between the seams of her vision, the thrum of something powerful pulling her under. She closed her eyes and felt like falling. Falling. Falling. 

* * *

It was vibrant; even more so than she remembered. Even the dreary walls of the castle seemed to pulse with a life she'd forgotten. Had she forgotten? Something didn't feel right. Where was she right now? 

The colors shifted and drifted and faded, and she felt herself float through the air, now with purpose. She _ had _ been going somewhere after all, hadn't she? Were her legs even moving?

Brighter and brighter, her arms tired with the effort. She stood back and admired the work; a vision of the future she was building. A better world. She looked closer, trying to understand. What future? What vision? Were those letters? They seemed to shift and sway and slip when she tried to stare at them.

_ 'Am I dreaming?' _she wondered, her hair whipping around her face as she sprinted through the halls, her body moving on its own as she struggled to orient herself, to take control. Was this a dream come true? The pulsing in her blood and heart and head screamed both yes and no. Was this a nightmare?

* * *

Ginny woke slick with sweat. Her scar was hurting, a dull yet persistent thrum that kept worrying at her head.

_ 'Gross,' _Ginny thought, feeling her sheets as they clung to her, her unruly hair plastered to her skin. She needed a shower, but she could already tell from the silence in the room that she'd overslept. Again. She'd need to skip breakfast and get dressed quickly so she didn't end up late to Transfiguration; McGonagall would still deduct points from Gryffindor even though she was the head of the house.

Ginny sat bolt upright, the memory of last night finally surfacing in her mind. Tom had shown her when he'd been a student, when he'd learned of the Chamber being opened and caught the Heir of Slytherin.

When he'd caught Hagrid.

She could hardly believe it. Hagrid had been so kind to her; he'd bought her Cleo and rescued her from a life of bouncing between foster homes. How could it be Hagrid?

Then she remembered the things he'd said, about how Dumbledore had protected him, how he'd let him stay on school grounds even though he'd been expelled. Even though a student had been _ murdered. _Now she understood his unwavering devotion to Dumbledore, it was just like Tom had said. She thought she was going to be sick.

On her way to class, Ginny wrestled with what to do. She wished she'd woken up earlier so she could talk to Tom about it; he'd know who to trust. She must've been exhausted last night because she didn't even remember getting into bed or putting on her pajamas. Maybe she'd just been so shocked about Hagrid that she hadn't even thought about what she'd been doing when she got into bed?

Ginny shook the thought from her mind. Who cared how she put her pajamas on, this revelation was too big to ignore. How deep did the cover-up go? Could she trust McGonagall? No, she was too close to Dumbledore, a loyal footsoldier. Maybe Slughorn would know what to do? Tom had said he'd been helpful when he was in school, though Tom had also stressed not to tell _ anyone _ about the diary -- not even Professor Slughorn.

Ginny was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she ran into the student walking in front of her. He turned, giving her a dismissive glance as she mumbled an apology. She tried to make her way around the crowd that had gathered in the corridor, but the students were packed in tightly, everyone focused on something at the center.

"Students, please return to your dorms, classes are canceled for the rest of the day," came Professor McGonagall's sharp tone, her voice brooking no argument. "If you have any information about who painted these words, please see your head of house, myself, or Professor Dumbledore immediately."

Students began to shuffle back the way they'd come, many of them throwing glances back over their shoulders. Ginny was able to slip between two larger fifth years, finally making her way to the front of the pack.

Large red letters were scrawled across the wall, their colors shimmering like a pool of warm blood as they appeared to drip toward the floor, though no puddle formed beneath. _ "THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED, ENEMIES OF THE HEIR BEWARE. MUDBLOODS AND BLOOD TRAITORS, YOUR TIME IS RUNNING OUT." _

Ginny stared at the letters, frozen to the spot. The Chamber was open. The Chamber of Secrets, that Hagrid had opened and used to kill a student, was once again open. She felt panic settle in, her hands clammy as they gripped her books with white knuckles. Tom was gone, just a memory. He couldn't help her now. _ No one _ knew the truth except Dumbledore and Hagrid, which meant there was _ no one _to stop this. No one, except her.

"Go along back to the common room dear," said Professor McGonagall, eyeing Ginny. Her voice was sweet, but there was fear hidden behind it. Ginny nodded, turning back the way she'd came. The common room would have to wait.

There was nothing else for it, she had to confront Hagrid before anyone got hurt.

* * *

The walk to Hagrid's hut felt like it lasted forever, her mind racing with each step as she trudged through freshly fallen snow. Ginny shivered, clutching her cloak tightly about her as she raised her fist to the door. Was she making a mistake, coming here alone? There was no way she could fight Hagrid; he was too big and she hardly knew any magic at all, certainly nothing useful against an attack. She'd promised to keep Tom's secret though, so there wasn't someone she could go to with this information. No, it had to be her.

Ginny took a deep breath and knocked, clutching her wand tightly in her pocket. It was a few moments before Hagrid opened the door, a wave of warmth spilling out from inside.

"Oh, hello there Ginny! Awful nice of you to come visit me today, but don't you have classes? Don't just stand outside, you'll catch a chill."

Ginny nodded but stayed in the doorway, unsure. Hagrid would find it strange if she stayed outside, but she'd have no chance of escaping with the door shut. He turned and stoked the fire, and Ginny begrudgingly took a seat near the door. Hagrid didn't seem to notice, instead fishing around his little kitchen for another mug.

"You're quiet today, is everything alright? I hope you're not skipping classes now," chided Hagrid lightly. "It's hard to see how important and special all these classes are 'til you aren't allowed to take 'em anymore."

"No, they were canceled for today," answered Ginny, finally finding her voice. "There was... well, something happened."

Hagrid turned to look at her, finally catching the fear wavering in her voice. "What happened? Is it… it's not to do with You Know Who, is it?"

Ginny shook her head, unable to meet his eyes. "No, it's something else." She stopped and took a deep breath; there was nothing else for it. "There was a message -- a threat -- painted on the walls. The Chamber of Secrets has been opened."

The effect was immediate. Hagrid's eyes bulged, the mug of tea he was holding fell to the floor and shattered. There was something deep and horrible in his expression, something stronger than pain or anguish or fear. Fang lifted his head at the sound, giving a noncommittal huff before going back to sleep.

Hagrid stood quietly, his body tense but unmoving. It was all Ginny needed to know that he remembered the last time the Chamber was opened, that _he_ was the one who did it and set the monster free.

"So it _ was _ you, wasn't it? You opened the Chamber last time. You unleashed that giant spider, that horrible monster, and it killed that student. You… you _ murdered _them and Dumbledore covered it all up for you," Ginny spat, locking eyes with Hagrid. He stared at her, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

"So what now? Are you going to murder more kids, because they have muggle parents? Are you going to murder me too, since I know?"

"Now, wait just a minute," he finally said, gathering his wits. "I've never hurt a soul in my life, 'cept in the name of protecting, and I'm sure not about to start now. I don't know who told you that I'd opened the Chamber before, but that was a lie; Dumbledore himself stood up for me."

"Don't try that with me!" snapped Ginny. "I know what happened, I know you got caught and then you stopped Tom from catching that _ monster! _ All so you could try again!"

"Tom…" whispered Hagrid, as he collapsed into his armchair. He reached over and picked up his pink umbrella, his fingers running across it gingerly. "How'd you know about…"

Ginny kept her hand tightly on her wand, her eyes watching Hagrid as he stared into the fireplace, lost in memory. He hadn't admitted anything yet, and he wasn't really reacting like Ginny had expected.

"Wait," said Hagrid finally, fixing Ginny with a piercing stare. "How do you know about Aragog?"

"Aragog?"

"O'course, my pet spider. Well, used to be. He's no monster, you know, I wish you wouldn't say that."

"Your pet spider?" repeated Ginny, confused. "That wasn't the monster? From the Chamber of Secrets?"

"No, I got Aragog when he was just a baby, a wee thing that could fit in his little crate. He lives deep in the Forbidden Forest now with his children. I helped find 'im a mate a while back, but I don't see him much now." Hagrid smiled sadly, wiping at his eyes. "After I got caught with him, they snapped my wand and expelled me, you see? Headmaster Dippet knew I hadn't opened the Chamber, I'm no Heir o' Slytherin. Can you imagine, a half giant the Heir o' bloody Slytherin himself? But having Aragog in the castle was still enough to get me the boot. The attacks stopped after that, and the Headmaster said the danger over. Dumbledore protected me, otherwise I'd be rotting in Azkaban."

"But they still gave Tom Riddle an award. I've seen it, 'for special services to the school', right in the trophy room," countered Ginny, feeling unsure of herself. Tom had been so _ confident_, so dismissive of her doubts, but had he been hiding the truth?

Hagrid gave a start at the sound of the name, his eyes snapping to Ginny again. "You said that name before. Do you know who he is? Who he became?"

Ginny paused, her heart beating a frantic rhythm in her chest. She didn't know what had become of Tom, she didn't even know where the diary really came from. She finally shook her head, afraid to know the answer but needing it all the same.

Hagrid wrung his hands again, now looking abashed. "Well, I thought you might not. He changed his name before he did it, but he's the one who gave you that scar when you were just a baby. He…" 

"He murdered my family," whispered Ginny, feeling her world fall around her. Tom Riddle was Voldemort. She knew it was true the moment he'd said it, all the little hints springing to mind in a torrent of shame. And she'd been sitting there and pouring her heart out to him, telling him her secrets, her fears, her hopes. It was too much to comprehend, she couldn't handle it. Ginny stood to leave, grabbing at the door handle as angry tears welled in her eyes. She had been so _ stupid. _

"Where are you headed to now? Ginny?"

"I'm sorry Hagrid, I'm so sorry. I didn't know, I shouldn't… I'm sorry I have to go…" she managed to mumble on her way out. She pushed open the door and ran at a full sprint, not caring where she went.

Twenty minutes later she collapsed into a snow drift, tears leaving frozen streaks down her face. She was a fool, a terrible fool. She shouldn't be here at Hogwarts learning magic, she shouldn't have friends. She was worthless.

After what felt like a long while, Ginny pulled herself up and set off back toward the school. She'd made so much of a mess already, but there was only one thing left to do. She had to destroy Tom's diary.


	7. Don’t You (Forget About Me)

##  **Don’t You (Forget About Me)**

_ Don't you forget about me _

_ Don't, don't, don't, don't _

_ Don't you forget about me _

_ Will you stand above me? _

_ Look my way, never love me _

_ Rain keeps falling, rain keeps falling _

_ Down, down, down _

_ Will you recognize me? _

_ Call my name or walk on by _

_ Rain keeps falling, rain keeps falling _

_ Down, down, down, down _

_ Hey, hey, hey, hey _

_ Ohhhh..... _

  * __Simple Minds, 1985__

Follow along to [ Ginny’s Mixtape ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3kDLc9BK6sFjDCQ9lpZNyv)

* * *

Ginny hurried down winding corridors, making sure she wasn't seen. There was probably a curfew right now, but it didn't matter, she needed to end this once and for all.

Staring at the diary, shoved into its little hiding spot, she was almost afraid to touch it. Part of her wanted to write something, some angry tirade to put Tom in his place and show him that he didn't control her, but she knew that would be just another stupid mistake. Mostly she just wanted to throw up.

Ginny yanked the diary out and immediately threw it into an empty wastebasket. Behind the book was a mass of cloth she didn't remember shoving there. She pulled it out carefully, curiosity giving way to horror as she recognized the shimmering red paint from that morning splattered across her robes. Now all the pieces finally fell into place. Going into Tom's memory, not remembering how she got into bed, feeling exhausted from last night but not having done anything. He'd used her, _ possessed _ her. She shivered at the thought and pushed it away; there would be time to deal with that later. Ginny tossed the robes into the wastebasket too. Best to get rid of everything.

Checking that no one was looking, Ginny hurried outside onto a small balcony on the third floor. She shoved the wastebasket into the corner and set the robes alight with a candle she'd taken from inside, the oil from the paint catching quickly. Ginny stared deep into the flames, feeling her shame welling below. She hadn't even lasted a semester; she'd be expelled for sure if anyone found out. Hagrid was expelled just for being suspected of being the heir, and she had _ actually _ opened the Chamber of Secrets.

The fire burned down to ash as she watched, caught by a fit of coughing. She had breathed in plenty of smoke already and wished she knew a spell to deal with that properly, or maybe had chosen a better spot to burn it. Poking through the ashes, she was horrified to find that the diary was still sitting there, unscathed.

_ 'What? This can't be happening…' _Ginny panicked as she flipped the book over, looking for signs of damage. The cover didn't even feel warm, much less burned.

She began to tear the pages out in a rage. It felt good to pull at the cursed book, ripping the pages in anger and tossing them aside. She was nearly halfway through when she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. 

Ginny turned to see words forming on the ripped pages, laughing and taunting her. She looked back at the diary, the pages untouched as if it had been brand new. Ink spread slowly across the open page, arcing in beautiful and mesmerizing script.

_ T: You were nothing when I found you, and you'll be nothing when I'm done, but I'm not done with you yet, Ginny Weasley. The Heir of Slytherin will rise again, and you'll help me. You'll see. _

She slammed the book shut, sobs wracking her chest. Ginny sprinted for the second floor bathroom, twisting the diary's spine and shoving it down into the toilet. She kicked the flush lever until it stopped working, finally stumbling out of the bathroom and collapsing against the wall. Ginny held her head in her hands, losing herself in grief and shame. She'd never felt so alone.

* * *

The next morning, Ginny woke to her scar aching, a dull throb that pumped with her pulse. There was a deep sense of shame and regret that had settled over her; Hagrid had only ever been kind to her. He'd even bought Cleo for her. She couldn't imagine showing her face to him again after yesterday.

As if called by the thought, Cleo hopped lightly onto the comforter by Ginny's side. She'd been distant and moody lately, though Ginny had to admit she hadn't spent enough time with her. Cleo fixed her with a knowing stare, curling herself against Ginny's body for warmth. Together, they drifted back to fretful sleep.

It was nearly noon by the time Ginny was forced to leave the bed and use the bathroom. The tiled floors and sounds of running water reminded her of her fury the night before, when she'd tried to destroy the book. Tom was too strong for her, but as afraid as she was of the consequences, she knew she had to fix this.

Finally resolved, Ginny made her way toward Myrtle's bathroom with purpose. _ 'No one ever uses that bathroom,' _ she assured herself, the words empty behind her fear. _ 'I'll just take it to Dumbledore and tell him the truth.' _Hagrid had been expelled, but he'd still been allowed to stay at Hogwarts. Maybe she'd get lucky too.

Or maybe the Potters would think she was too much trouble. Maybe… 

"Oi, watch it mate!" shouted Crabbe as Ginny barreled into him.

"Oh, Ginny," said Goyle, adjusting his glasses. Crabbe gave him a strange look and punched his arm. Since when did Goyle wear glasses?

Goyle looked surprised for a moment, rubbing his arm before recognition dawned. He turned on Ginny, growling, "Yeah, watch it you ginger. Do that again and we'll set your hair on fire."

"What's wrong with being a ginger?" challenged Crabbe, standing up straighter. Goyle fixed him with an exasperated stare and shook his head.

"Alright, I'll leave you to whatever _ this _ is then. Psychos," muttered Ginny, slipping between them and down the hall. She watched them out of the corner of her eye as she walked, their voices muffled in a hushed argument.

She was so distracted that she almost walked straight past the bathrooms, only stopping when she stepped into a puddle that had leaked out from underneath the door. '_ That's strange,' _ thought Ginny, pushing open the door. _ 'The plumbing hardly works here. Must've been one of Myrtle's fits.' _

Inside the bathroom, Myrtle was thankfully nowhere to be found. There was a steady trickle of water running from the toilet that she’d shoved Tom's diary into, but no book in sight. Ginny looked frantically around the bathroom, dumping out the wastebaskets and flinging the stall doors open. The last one was locked, a little sound of surprise coming from behind the door as Ginny jostled it.

"Oh, I'm sorry," fumbled Ginny, stepping away from the door quickly, her feet splashing a little in the standing water. Now that she was paying attention, she realized that the girl was crying. "I'm sorry for the noise, I've uh, lost something. Are you alright?"

"I'm…" hesitated the voice, the words strangely muddled. "I'm fine, please just… I need to be alone." 

Ginny rushed out of the bathroom, heading back to the dorm. She couldn't waste her time, the diary was _ gone _and she had no idea what to do about it. She couldn't go to Dumbledore now, not without proof. She might as well confess that she was the Heir of Slytherin.

No, she had to find whatever happened to the book, and she'd have to do it alone. It was too dangerous to leave Tom free like that, and it was her fault that he was out there, somewhere.

* * *

Ginny walked slowly through the halls, avoiding returning to the common room. She definitely couldn't go to Hagrid's, and she wasn't ready to talk to Colin and Ada yet. She needed to figure out how to apologize to them, but she didn't know where to start. She didn't even know how to begin looking for the diary.

Ginny thought of the girl in the bathroom yesterday. She might know something about the diary, but probably not. She'd seemed really upset about whatever she was dealing with, so Ginny doubted she'd noticed anyone else in there at all. It was a girl's bathroom though, so surely another girl had it.

A door in front of her opened and Ada stepped out, her face determined. _ 'Just my luck,' _ thought Ginny, _ 'I guess I might as well deal with this now.' _

"We need to talk to you, and no more running away," stated Ada, her voice flat and emotionless. She raised her wand, whispering a spell with a flick of her wrist.

Ginny felt her arms and legs snap together as if wrapped in rope, creaking unsteadily on her feet. She tried to stay upright, her eyes locked with Ada's, but eventually her weight shifted backwards and she began to fall, caught halfway down by Colin's outstretched arms.

"You were going to let her fall like that?" asked Colin as Ada helped him drag Ginny into the room. She tried to turn and peer at him but could only move her eyes, the rest of her body rigid as a board.

"I couldn't decide, and then it just started happening," shrugged Ada. "You caught her anyway."

Ginny wanted to argue with them and explain herself, the frustration building as she tried to force her mouth to move.

"It's no good, Ginny, her body bind curse is really strong. Just sit tight and listen, and we'll free you, alright?"

Ginny relaxed, closing her eyes for a moment to collect herself. When she opened them, Colin was crouched in front of her, his expression uneasy.

"We've been trying to talk to you lately, but you keep blowing us off. You've been different too, you've…"

"You've been a total jerk, and out of nowhere. You may be the _ Chosen One _or whatever you think of yourself as now, but you're our friend too. When did that stop being true?" 

_ 'They're holding an intervention,' _Ginny realized with frustration. It was nice to know they cared, and she'd probably thank them later, but she was well aware of what she'd done wrong and wasn't looking forward to hearing a lecture about it. Every moment she wasted, the diary became harder to find.

Ginny listened quietly only because she was still unable to speak. Ada and Colin took turns airing their grievances, which were true, but Ginny had already moved on to her other problems. She was thinking about the girl she'd found crying in Myrtle's bathroom and how she'd seen Crabbe and Goyle in the hallway not long before. Had they been bullying her? They could have followed her into the bathroom and found the diary, maybe. She couldn't remember if she'd seen anything in their hands, but they had been acting strange. She'd need to find them alone so she could interrogate them. Maybe Ada could teach her the body bind curse to use on them. They _ definitely _looked like they were up to something; she could feel it in her gut.

"Are you ready to talk now?" asked Ada, as she raised her wand again. "Errr, blink once if yes," she added as Ginny remained silent.

She released the spell and Ginny felt her body slacken, settling back into a comfortable position. She felt so exhausted right now; absolutely nothing was going right. "Yeah, I'm ready," she finally admitted, stretching her limbs as the feeling slowly returned, leaving her on pins and needles.

"I suppose I've been a real wanker, and you two didn't deserve that. I just got wrapped up with…" she hesitated, wondering if she was ready to talk about Tom yet. The pain still felt too raw and unwieldy, the admission too personal. It would have to wait. "Well, I guess I got full of myself, and cared more about quidditch than anything else. Can we… can we try again? I'm not used to having friends for long." 

Colin nodded eagerly and Ada gave her a stiff smile, clearly not entirely sold but willing to accept it -- for now, at least. Ginny decided if she couldn't find the diary by the end of term, she'd tell them everything, and maybe they could help. For now, she needed to find Crabbe and Goyle.

* * *

_ 'Finally, they're alone,' _thought Ginny, pushing her shoulders back and standing up tall as she slipped into the doorway of their train car. She'd been trying to corner Crabbe and Goyle for days, but they were always trailing behind Malfoy or surrounded by other Slytherins. She’d almost run out of time, now that the semester had ended.

"I've been looking for you two," she stated matter-of-factly, her wand ready and hidden in her robes. "What were you doing in Myrtle's bathroom last week? Were you bullying that girl, or just stealing books that aren't yours? Or maybe you just couldn't figure out which loo was the boys?"

They looked at each other stupidly. "What are you on about, Weasley?" grumbled Crabbe, glaring at Ginny. "If you're spreading rumors about us using the girl's bathroom, I'll curse you so hard that… erm…"

"We'll break your stupid nose!" threatened Goyle, coming to his friend's rescue.

"I don't care about the bathroom, I want the book you stole; a green diary with the letters T-M-R printed on the cover. You were acting weird and coming from that direction when I ran into you, and there's nothing else down that corridor. Where is the book?" Ginny challenged. 

They stared at her in silence, and Ginny could almost hear the empty vacuum behind their vacant eyes. They didn't remember running into her at all.

"Ummm…" they both mumbled in confusion.

"What are _ you _doing in my compartment, Weasley? Crabbe, Goyle! What good are you two if you can't even keep out this blood traitor filth. I think we’ll have to move cars to avoid the stench."

Ginny rolled her eyes at Malfoy, stepping toward him quickly and pulling her fist back as if to punch him. He recoiled, and she smirked as she moved past him and back into the hallway.

"I think she lost her diary," Ginny heard Goyle say as Malfoy slammed his trunk on the ground. It felt like the right way to end the semester.

Ginny made her way back to where Ada and Colin were sitting. She'd need to come up with a plan before the holidays were done, but for now she was feeling too defeated to deal with it.

"Hello, Ginny, I'm ever so glad to see you again. I hope you've had a nice end to term?" asked Luna, gesturing for Ginny to sit next to her. Ada and Colin sat across from them playing exploding snap, their hands pulling back quickly to avoid getting singed. After a particularly loud ‘bang’ Cleo hopped into Ginny’s lap, grumpily curling away from the noise.

Ginny sat and smiled, pushing Tom and the diary from her mind for now. Maybe it had been thrown out, or the person who found it wouldn't discover the secret. Maybe it was sitting in Filch's office and would eventually be buried below a pile of junk confiscated from students.

There was something reassuring about Cleo's warmth that filled Ginny with confidence. She was clever and resourceful, she told herself, she'd have time to figure it all out when classes started again. For now, she was surrounded by friends with a _ family _waiting for her at home. Despite it all, life had never been this good.

* * *

"Come on Harry, you've been shut up in your room all break. Come down to the Ministry and you can meet some of my new coworkers. We’ll show Ginny around, it'll be fun!" James called from outside Harry's door.

Ginny stood quietly, leaning against the doorframe to the hallway and feeling awkward. She still felt out of place whenever there was tension in the house, like somehow her presence caused issues for the Potters. She knew it was stupid, but she still couldn't shake the feeling.

"You _ know _ it won't be fun," argued Harry from behind the door. "It's _ never _ fun. I'm feeling sick anyway, just leave me here."

James frowned, stealing a glance at Ginny. "Harry, come on buddy, this stuff is important for your future. Maybe you'll want to go into the Ministry one day, these will be good people to know. Fudge will be there…"

"He'll only care about meeting Ginny Weasley, _ savior of the world. _They don't care about meeting me. I'm not going!" shouted Harry, not sounding sick at all.

James looked back at Ginny, frowning. "Sorry, Harry gets grumpy sometimes when he isn’t getting enough sleep," he whispered. "He might actually be right about the Ministry though, they generally mean well but I'm sure they'll want to meet you and talk to you. We can sneak into my office if it gets too much, alright? That is, if you still want to go?"

Ginny cast one last look at Harry's door before nodding. Was it something she'd done? Something she'd said at school? She couldn't think of anything, but there had to be some reason he was mad at her.

"Yeah, I want to see what it's like where you work," answered Ginny, glad to be away from whatever was going on with Harry. She'd faced the crowds before, and now she at least knew what had happened to her all those years ago. She could handle it.

* * *

Ginny stared in awe, the disorientation from the floo powder quickly forgotten. Massive columns supported a distant ceiling, hidden somewhere behind the soft, uniform glow from above. Wizards and witches in business robes hurried about, sparing only enough attention to avoid running into each other. It was somehow comforting to know that this London, _ her _ London, felt as busy and crowded as the one above. As separate as they felt, the two worlds were almost touching; a distorted reflection in a funhouse mirror.

Ginny followed James into the elevator, watching as he tapped his wand to the controls. Script ran across a small piece of parchment, spelling out the destination as the parliamentary office level. Another wizard stepped into the elevator, tapping his wand as James had before sliding it into the handle of his cane. The name '_Lucius Malfoy' _ also appeared next to the parliamentary office level.

Ginny froze, realizing that _ this _ must be Draco’s father. The one who had been a Death Eater, then lied that he’d been under mind control. Or something. She could feel the heat of anger rising in her throat as she looked up at him.

“Well well, Potter, what have we here?”

James turned, the displeasure evident in his face. “Hello, Lucius. Ginny, this is Lucius Malfoy, the head of the Heritage Party MP’s. Lucius, I’m sure you’ve heard of Ginny here.”

“A pleasure, I’m sure,” he intoned, flashing a reptilian grin. “I hope your first year at Hogwarts has been… enlightening, thus far. I did hear from Draco that there was some frightening vandalism on school grounds. I nearly wanted to pull him from the school, but of course he’s a strong and clever boy, and he insisted to see the year through.”

James huffed. “Vandalism? What are you talking about, Lucius?”

Lucius's smile broadened, his eyes glinting with something dark that made chill crawl up Ginny's spine. “You should be ashamed of yourself, James. It’s our responsibility to ensure the safety of our children, you have to stay informed of these matters,” tittered Lucius, and Ginny immediately realized that Draco was a garden snake compared to his father, the viper. “It appears that the Chamber of Secrets has been opened once again, after all these years. Or at least that’s what someone _ wants _ us to think. I can only hope it’s simple vandalism, we all know how much of a _ treasure _ our precious muggle-borns are to the magical community.”

James looked to Ginny for confirmation, and she nodded, unable to hold his gaze. She could feel the shame building behind her cheeks, a deep flush warming her neck. She looked up to see Lucius’s eyes on her, something dark and satisfied in his grin.

The door to the elevator slid open, and Lucius floated out, his fingers curled around his wand. “I do hope they catch the _ Heir _ in time, before he, or _ she_, kills another child." He met Ginny's gaze and she swore there was something knowing in it. He couldn't know about Tom's diary, could he? Lucius gave her a cruel smile that made her insides squirm. "I couldn’t bear to expose the school, and our children, to such violence. It would be our duty to act, of course, and swiftly. Keep that in mind, James. If Dumbledore has lost his touch… well, I’m sure we can agree that the safety of the students is more important than anything.”

* * *

Ginny ran her fingers along the polished wood, feeling the sleek handle of the broom. It hovered above the ground, pulsing with coiled tension. She had to admit, new football cleats had nothing on a new broomstick. “Thank you, this is… it’s incredible!”

Ginny had spent Christmas with the Shelton's before, when she was young, but she hardly remembered anything about it. Opening presents and sipping hot cocoa, snow angels and the sound of carols; little memories that she would cherish during her years in foster care. Spending Christmas at Grimmauld Place was an altogether different experience, but one that made Ginny feel full to bursting with happiness. The angry paintings _ did _ take some getting used to, though.

James smiled, reaching out and squeezing Lily’s hand. “It’s a great broom, I’ve actually toured the Nimbus factory before -- they’re visionaries over there. If I’d had one of those during my quidditch days…”

“Then you’d have had an even bigger head than you already did,” answered Lily, ruffling Harry’s hair as he arranged his new set of gobstones.

“Would that even have been possible?” joked Sirius. “Just look at him, he’s itching to apparate over to the quidditch shop to get one for himself!”

“Honestly, I’m showing such tremendous restraint right now. It’s like I don’t even know there is a top of the line broom in the room,” laughed James, distancing himself from the Nimbus 2000.

"He says that now," said Lily, bringing a mug of eggnog to Sirius. "But by Monday morning he'll be telling me how _ impossible _it would be to coach the kids without having the same model broom as them. How, after all, he's just looking out for their futures."

James shrugged, his face lighting up with a grin. "You bring up a good point Lily, I wouldn't want to sacrifice their future quidditch careers over a few gallons. Do you think Quality Quidditch Supplies is open today?"

* * *

Ginny stared at the elaborate tapestry before her, the branching family tree weaving in and out across generations of the Black family. Many of the surnames repeated themselves: Black -- of course, Lestrange, Malfoy, Yaxley, Crouch, Bulstrode, Crabbe. Other spots were simply blacked out, their names scorched off or blasted from the tapestry. She reached her finger out to touch one the charred edges, still crisp and peeling.

"That was a Phineas Black. My great grandfather -- another Sirius Black actually -- singed old Phineas off for supporting muggle rights."

Ginny turned as Sirius entered, still cradling his eggnog. "Really? Was he very anti-muggle? Like the Malfoys?"

"Oh, most assuredly. The vast majority of the Black family has ranged somewhere between elitist pricks, at the _ better _ end, and some pretty outright evil people. Like my dear cousin Bellatrix, a real nasty piece of work. She's in Azkaban now, I can only assume it suits her. This one," said Sirius, pointing to the tapestry with a flourish, "was me. At least until my dear mother awarded me with the coveted black mark."

Sirius looked at the tapestry again, tracing the branches. "Oh, and you'll like this one. That was Cedrella Black, who was scorched off for marrying Septimus Weasley."

"_Septimus_?" Ginny laughed, shaking her head. She followed the frequently overlapping lines of the branches, trying to get a sense of the family connections. "There aren't _ that _ many different pureblood families, are there?"

"No, there really aren't," Sirius laughed.

"You have a brother?" asked Ginny as she followed the connections from Sirius's node. "Named Regulus?"

"Had," corrected Sirius. "He lived up to the family legacy and became a Death Eater. Oh the family was so proud, especially mother. Of course he got in over his head and died, some say Voldemort killed him himself. The old bat probably would have thought it an honor." He pulled a flask from his pocket, pouring a little into his mug. Then he paused, considering, and upended the rest of the liquid into the eggnog.

"Did your parents raise you to be Death Eaters?"

"Not in particular," allowed Sirius, staring at the tapestry. "Though that's mostly semantics. The Death Eaters didn't really get going until later, but she encouraged it for both of us once they did. I was sorted into Gryffindor, a grave betrayal and disappointment, so she eventually gave up on me. By which I mean, I ran away to live with James and his parents. Reg stayed here, though. He was always interested in the dark arts; he was even a big fan of Voldemort’s before he rose to power. Sometimes I wonder if I’d just, well... "

Sirius shrugged his shoulders, drinking from his eggnog before spluttering and spitting on the floor. “Ughhh, Merlin. I overdid it on this eggnog, I forgot how strong muggle liquor can be. I’m going to switch it with James’ mug when he’s not paying attention.” He looked at the spillage on the hardwood floor, shaking his head slightly. “Kreacher is going to complain about that for a week, I'll bet.”

Ginny thought about what he'd said. How did he become different when his parents tried to force him into their mold? Was it something she could learn? Every time she thought of how Tom had manipulated and controlled her, it sent shivers down her spine. She never wanted that to happen again.

“...spilling like a child, again… disgusting lover of _ muggles _ and _ mudbloods _… it's a good thing the poor Mistress didn't live to see such a disgrace in the noble House of Black… not like Master Regulus, no, not like Master at all… he even tells lies about Master...”

Ginny turned to see a rather odd-looking house elf pushing the spilled eggnog around the floor with a mop, muttering under his breath. She’d known that Sirius had kept one, but she was surprised to see how ghastly he looked. Growing up as a muggle, the idea of house elves felt so foreign to her, so wrong. And this one certainly didn’t seem to enjoy it. What made it alright, to have a house elf? Was it different from slavery, or was it wrong as she felt it was?

What did that mean about this world?

“Hello,” said Ginny cautiously, unsure how to address a house elf. “What lies is he telling?”

The house elf stopped his mopping, slowly turning his gnarled head to look at Ginny. His eyes quickly set into angry slits, and he resumed his mopping. “The outcast brings another blood traitor, and it asks stupid questions. So many lies, where to begin. Mistress preserve me...”

There was something about the little creature’s tired malice that Ginny couldn’t help but find amusing, in its own perverse way. “What are the lies about Regulus?”

Kreacher narrowed his eyes at her. "Why does it want to know?"

Ginny shrugged. "There are always two sides to the same story, aren't there?"

"Not for me to know," mumbled Kreacher. He stood still, staring at the mop in his hands. After a few moments he turned back to Ginny. "They call him nasty words. Liar. Traitor. Weak and foolish. Not true, all lies. Lies about my Master, brave Regulus, kind Regulus, wise Regulus."

He began to get more agitated, pacing the hallway as the mess sat forgotten on the floor. "Master would be a hero, if it weren't for Kreacher. Kreacher failed his _ one _ task, failed his Master, Kreacher couldn't… can't…" He turned turned to look at Ginny, as if only now remembering she was there, and clapped his hands over his mouth to stop himself.

"Is everything alright?"

Kreacher lurched toward the nearest pillar, banging his head against it soundly and eliciting little yelps with each impact. Ginny stood frozen for a moment, shocked that he would harm himself like that. Then she dove forward, pulling him away from the wall as he struggled to continue.

"I leave for five minutes," sighed Sirius, shaking his head. "What happened?"

Kreacher turned toward Ginny, his expression filled with fear and guilt.

"Oh, it was nothing, he startled me is all." Ginny caught Kreacher's eye, and he almost looked thankful before he turned and scurried away.

Sirius watched him go, amused. "He's a strange little thing, isn't he? I blame my mother, of course. Now where were we?" 

"You were telling me about your family."

Sirius made a sour face. "Are you sure? That doesn't sound like me," he said, smiling. "What do you want to know?"

* * *

Back at Godric's Hollow, Ginny was ready to try out the new broom. There had been a fresh snow overnight, and the whole field behind the house was covered in a thick white coating. She stared across the open expanse and down toward the frozen pond, her breath fogging the glass at regular intervals.

"He's still feeling sick," announced Ron, voicing his annoyance. "Or at least that's what Harry said, but he's definitely faking."

Ginny shrugged, but internally she was disappointed. Was Harry still avoiding her? Did he feel like she was trying to take his place? She could almost hear Tom laughing in her mind, feeding her doubts and worries. _ This is just the beginning, it won't be long until he resents you coming to live with them. He'll hate you before the end… _

Outside, Ron and Ginny kept shuffling their feet to keep warm. The air was crisp and clear, but the wind kept it cold enough that they couldn't stay airborne for long. Ron had started mumbling about how great one of Lily's hot cocoas would be _ right now, _so Ginny knew she didn't have much more time outside.

"Is Harry, well, do you think he's mad at me? Or avoiding me?"

Ron stopped, screwing up his face in thought. "Harry? No, he's being moody alright, but that's not _ that _out of the ordinary. He's been spending a lot of time in his room. I think he's writing letters to someone. I saw Hedwig tapping on the window the other night."

"Oh, okay. That's good."

"Its weird though, I tried to ask him about it and he didn't want to tell me. I've been thinking about it and they've got to be love letters, right? Probably to Hermione, otherwise he'd tell me about it. I mean, we're best mates, that's the type of thing we're supposed to talk about, isn't it?" Ron shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets and turning back toward the house.

"I don't know, maybe he's embarrassed about it?" asked Ginny. "Boys are gross anyway," she said, thinking of the way Harry's curly hair fell about his eyes, and the way her heart felt when he smiled at her.

"Even me?"

"Of course you, too. I saw you eat that chocolate frog you found in Sirius's old room. You didn't even ask how old it was!" Ginny laughed, exasperated.

"Chocolate doesn't go bad, Ginny, it's not like a vegetable. And I guess it doesn’t matter if he likes Hermione. I just don’t want it to make the group weird. I don’t really _ care_, you know? He can have her, as long as he's still my best mate," supplied Ron, smiling and forcing a laugh as he tried to look nonchalant. It came out flat to Ginny's ears.

"Yeah, who cares," agreed Ginny, her hand clenching her broom tightly. He and Hermione could be together and make all the magical babies they want. What did it matter to her? It's not like she had any claim to Harry. _ If _ she even liked him, which she definitely _ did not. _


	8. You Keep Me Hanging On

##  **You Keep Me Hanging On**

_ Why do you keep a-comin' around? _

_ Playing with my heart _

_ Why don't cha get out of my life _

_ And let me make a brand new start? _

_ Let me get over you _

_ The way you've gotten over me, yeah _

_ Set me free why don't cha, babe? _

_ Get out of my life why don't cha, babe? (wooh) _

_ 'Cause you don't really love me _

_ You just keep me hangin' on _

_ Now you don't really need me _

_ You just keep me hangin' on _

  * __Kim Wilde, 1986__

Follow along to [Ginny’s Mixtape](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3kDLc9BK6sFjDCQ9lpZNyv)

* * *

For the first two weeks back at Hogwarts, everything seemed determined to go back to normal. Ginny felt lighter after having shed Tom's influence, though sometimes she thought she could still hear his whisper, just at the edge of listening. She tried to ignore it, but it never really left.

And just when she let her guard down, things started to take a turn for the worse.

Ginny was sitting in Charms, jotting down notes on how to use the spell _ reparo, _when a ragged voice filled her ears.

_ … RIPPPPP… KILLLLLL… SHSHRED…. TEARRRR… _

She bolted upright in her seat, her eyes scanning the room. Professor Flitwick spared her a glance, but kept teaching as if nothing had happened. In fact, no one appeared to have heard anything; even Ada and Colin were diligently taking notes as they watched the Professor demonstrate how to cast the spell.

"Hey," whispered Ginny, nudging Colin. "Did you hear that voice?"

Colin gave her a sheepish smile, "Sorry, can it wait? I might need this spell for my camera."

_ ...BLOOD… BLOOD… BBBOILING, DRIPPING, GUSHING… AND FRESH… _

Ginny nearly fell out of her seat. The voice sounded as if it were crawling in the ceiling above her. Could ghosts haunt just one person? How could no one else… 

"Ms. Weasley, is everything alright?" Flitwick asked, a thin layer of annoyance noticeable in his voice.

"Yes… I just need to, uh, use the restroom," Ginny lied. She needed to think, and she needed to find the source of that whisper. It was just a hunch, but if she was the only one who could hear it, maybe it had something to do with Tom and whoever had his diary.

"Yes, well, go ahead then. Do hurry back. We'll be pairing up to practice on vases shortly, and you can be sure that this will be on your final examination."

Ginny rushed out of the classroom, keeping her ears on alert for the sound of the voice. _ There! _It turned along a stairwell, the sounds seeming to come from the wall beside her.

_ 'If only I can hear it, maybe it's Tom commanding the person with the diary,' _ she reasoned. _ 'Either that or it's him commanding the monster -- if there ever really was one. Tom could have killed the student himself last time, and used the legend to cover his tracks.' _Ginny wasn't sure what she would do when she found whatever it was, but she knew she had to try. The only reason Tom was out at all was because of her.

Around another bend and the voice started to climb, ascending faster and faster. Ginny broke into a run, climbing the first set of stairs she found. About halfway up, the ground beneath her lurched, and she nearly fell as the staircase swung away toward the opposite landing.

Ginny growled in frustration, bounding up the stairs two at a time. Sometimes being at Hogwarts was maddening, as if the castle liked to play pranks on you, too. She would need to find another way to get back to that landing. _ 'Moving stairways, _ ' she thought angrily. _ 'Why not make them move up like escalators instead of around!' _

Thankfully, the hallways were empty with everyone still in class for the afternoon session. She darted down another corridor, finally remembering what part of the castle she was in. She couldn't hear the voice anymore, but she was nearly to the Astronomy tower now and there weren't many other directions she could go.

She burst out onto a landing, lungs gulping for air. Nothing. Had she guessed wrong? Maybe it had doubled back. Or had she just been hearing things?

Ginny started to retrace her steps, giving herself a moment to catch her breath. If it wasn't for that stupid moving staircase she'd have caught it for sure. She wondered how much time had passed; she was nearly halfway across the castle from Flitwick's class. Would she even be able to make it back before the period ended? Hopefully he wouldn't be angry. Ginny had been so sure that this had something to do with Tom, but now… 

Turning the corner, Ginny stopped dead in her tracks. A few feet away from her stood an older girl, her face frozen in an expression of shock and horror. Her skin was a pale gray hue, her hand extended as she held out a small compact mirror, as if she'd been fixing her makeup.

Ginny panicked. Could the attacker still be nearby? Should she run for it, or try to find them? Was this girl still alive? Or had she been… 

Before Ginny could continue to let her thoughts spiral, the clocks chimed for the end of the afternoon session, and students came pouring into the hall. Screams quickly followed as they got close enough to notice the girl and her ghostly pallor.

"Penelope! Oh, Merlin! What did you do to Penelope? Someone call Madam Pomfrey!" 

"What's Pomfrey going to do? Call for Dumbledore! And the aurors!"

Ginny tried to back away from the girl, but she was now surrounded by students trying to get through the hallway. There was nowhere for her to go.

"Out of my way, out of my way!" shouted Filch, elbowing his way through the crowd. "If one of you lot have set off dung bombs in the hallway again, I swear I'll have you hanging from manacles in the dungeon by dinner!"

He finally made his way through to Ginny, stopping in shock. "So, it's started then," he said simply, shaking himself from his stupor and striding forward to grab Ginny's wrist. "I've been tellin' Dumbledore that you Weasleys are trouble, that it wouldn't be long before you lot went from vandalism to violence. And here it is, now you've kill't another student…"

"Have not! I found her like this! And she isn't dead," said Ginny, wrenching her arm from Filch's grasp. "See? She's still breathing. Barely."

McGonagall's crisp tone broke out over the din of chattering students, easily parting them in her wake. "Off to your common rooms, all of you. Prefects, lead the way. Clear this hallway immediately."

Ginny tried to slip into the crowd, but McGonagall stopped her with a glance. She could feel the panic building as she waited and her hands began to sweat. They _ had _to believe it wasn't her; she had no idea what had happened and definitely wasn't a good enough witch to do whatever was done to this girl. 

"To the Headmaster's office, Ms. Weasley," intoned McGonagall, the quaver in her voice almost hidden by her clipped words. Almost.

Filch fixed Ginny with a cruel smile, tilting his head slightly in a mocking bow. "Weasley," he said, drawing out the name as a challenge before he turned and left. Clearly he hadn’t gotten over Ginny breaking into his office and reading his letter.

"Professor, I didn't have anything to do with this. You have to believe me, there's no way I could…" Ginny stammered as she hurried to keep up with McGonagall.

"Of course not. Quiet now, girl, and tell Professor Dumbledore everything you know."

* * *

Ginny finished recounting what she'd seen and heard, and the teachers slowly filed out of Dumbledore's office, each given their own task before descending the spiral stairs at the back of the room. Ginny began to feel more and more uncomfortable, and it wasn't long before she was alone with Dumbledore.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I've kept you here, Ginevra."

She nodded, feeling too shaken to try to be bold. She'd been wrong about Tom, she'd probably been wrong about Dumbledore, too. She wouldn't make the same mistake she'd made with Hagrid. Not again.

"I believe that you've been honest with me about what happened today, but is there anything else you'd like to tell me? Anything that might be helpful in finding whoever is responsible for this attack?" Dumbledore leaned forward, his eyes expectant as he stared at her over his half-moon spectacles.

"No, professor, nothing that will help with finding the attacker," she said, skirting around the truth. "Could it be the same person that did it last time?"

Dumbledore frowned, though Ginny couldn't tell if he was disappointed or just deep in thought. "Hm, I wonder…" After a moment, he seemed to wake from his daydream, swiftly standing and making his way toward the door. He stopped short, flicking his wand as a small box hurtled into his hand.

Handing it to Ginny, Dumbledore smiled. "Here, a chocolate frog. You'd be surprised at how much good a little bit of chocolate can do. I know you've had a trying day, so how about you get some rest? You've given me a thought, and I'm curious where it will lead me."

* * *

"Ginny, what happened? Where have you been?" hissed Ada, picking her way through the darkened room. "Oh forget this. _ Lumos _!" she cast confidently, a bright light filling the room.

Ginny stared at her from her bed; her dinner sat on a tray nearby, untouched. She looked at Ada, not bothering to squint from the glare of her wand, though the light hurt her eyes. "We need to talk. Colin, too. Can you meet me in the common room after midnight, and let Colin know? I’ll tell you everything then."

Ada nodded, her eyes darting anxiously for signs of something wrong. Ginny tried to give her a reassuring smile, but it felt more like a grimace. "Where are you going, until then?"

Ginny thought of Sirius and his house of cursed things, about the Black family history that he'd shared with her over break. If anyone knew what a cursed diary could do, it would be him. Maybe he knew how to destroy it, too. 

"I have a letter to write, and I need to sneak out before they put curfew on."

"You're too late, it's already on. Dumbledore announced it at dinner. Ginny, you weren't involved in the attack, right? I mean, it didn't come after you did it?" asked Ada, wringing her hands. Ginny hadn't seen her like this before; she'd always been so flippant about danger, so irreverent. Somehow that made this all seem more frightening.

Ginny reached out and touched her hand. "No, I'm alright, it didn't come after me. But I do think I know something about what’s going on, and I'll need your help. I'll tell you everything tonight."

* * *

"We won't get in trouble for staying up past curfew, will we?" asked Colin, clearly nervous.

"We aren't even leaving the common room," laughed Ada, though she too looked on edge.

"We aren't breaking curfew," confirmed Ginny, "but what I'm about to tell you needs to stay an absolute secret, alright? Otherwise, it will be the end for me."

Ada and Colin both nodded, listening with rapt attention as Ginny described Tom's diary and what she'd learned about the first time the Chamber of Secrets had been opened. Neither of them was angry with her, or at least nowhere near as angry as she was with herself. A palpable silence settled over the group once she'd caught them up to the attack and the meeting in Dumbledore's office.

"So, what do we do now?" asked Colin finally. "If a student died last time, I can only expect, um… _ Tom _ will keep going until he’s stopped, right? Or whoever he's controlling?" 

"We don't know that he's controlling anyone right now," Ada added, looking pale but determined. "Maybe Crabbe and Goyle found the diary and gave it to Malfoy. He'd do it in a heartbeat. I've known that little git for _ years _. He'd become a Death Eater at the first opportunity. Just like his daddy. That goes for every Slytherin, I expect."

Colin shook his head. "I don't doubt that about Malfoy, but we can't say _ all _the Slytherins would do it, can we? How's that any better than them saying all muggleborns are bad?"

"There isn't someone going around trying to kill all Slytherins. _ That _ makes a big difference," argued Ada. "I'm more than happy to apologize to the lot of them if we catch the Heir and it's not a Slytherin. It sounds like the only thing that stopped _ You Know Who _before was that he didn't want Hogwarts to be shut down. There's nothing stopping him now. We have to protect each other first."

"And I have to do something about it. I have to stop him," added Ginny. This was her problem to solve, her mistake to correct.

Colin shook his head, standing as he began to pace. "Wait, what? Ginny, you're eleven. You can't stop _ You Know Who _ by yourself -- let us help you!"

"I did it once, didn't I? And anyway, I can't let you two risk yourselves because I did something stupid. It's my fault that Tom got started on this. It’s my fault that the attack happened."

Ada shook her head, "Oh, so nothing to do for the rest of us, just wait for Ginny to save the day? Don't get me wrong, I agree Colin shouldn't be too involved -- don't fight me on this Colin, you're a target as a muggleborn. At least Ginny and I aren't. We need a plan."

“Fine,” Ginny finally agreed, though she was secretly grateful. All the responsibility of stopping Tom felt daunting, and she didn't even know where to begin. “There’s still too much we don’t know about, well, all of this. We need to know what we’re up against.”

Ada nodded, pulling out a piece of parchment and her quill. “Right, so we know who opened the Chamber last time, and we know that someone died when it happened. The legend tells of a monster only the Heir can control and a hidden chamber within the school, built by Salazar Slytherin.”

“Are you taking notes?” interrupted Ginny.

“Yeah, that’s how research works. You should probably have figured that out by now,” joked Ada. Ginny gave her a light shove, and she smiled, continuing to scribble notes. It felt good to be working together like this, not to have to bear the secret alone.

“Okay,” Ada continued, “We've got three specific areas to research, so we can each take one. There’s Tom Riddle and the diary...”

“He’s mine,” Ginny stated. That wasn’t up for discussion.

Ada nodded, making note of it. “There’s also what happened last time the Chamber was opened, as well as Salazar and the legend of the Chamber.”

They agreed to meet up in the library whenever they were all free and learn everything they could. Colin reported that, fortunately, the girl that was petrified was still alive, but that she wouldn't wake without a special mandrake potion.

When Ginny finally collapsed into bed that night, she felt better for the first time since the attack. If there was a goal she could focus on, she could throw everything she had into it until it was solved. Or until it was too late. But she wasn't ready to start thinking like that, not yet. She had her friends to help, and Sirius might be able to figure something out too. She could do this, she could fix it.

* * *

“Where the hell was your head Weasley? It wasn’t out there on the pitch, I can tell you that much. We’ve got Ravenclaw in two weeks. I need everyone at the top of their game,” lectured Wood, angrily pacing the locker room.

“I won’t let it happen again,” Ginny answered, her head hung low. Wood was right -- she was distracted. She just felt so overwhelmed, ever since the first attack really. Aside from trying to find the diary and research Tom, her studies had become harder than ever; as if the teachers were trying to cram in as many lessons as they could before _ something _ else happened. Something they all seemed to fear.

Things with her friends had gotten better, but the rest of her classmates either avoided her or whispered about her being the Heir of Slytherin when they thought she couldn’t hear them. Sometimes, they didn’t even bother trying to get out of earshot, just to see what she’d do. It was infuriating. The worst part of it all was that Ginny felt like they were right, to some extent. She _ had _ set this all in motion. Then to top it all off, she’d just had her worst practice yet and gotten knocked off her broom by a bludger.

Ginny readjusted the icepack on her forehead. She had hoped that the other chasers might stand up for her, but she’d been a mess even before she took her eyes off the bludger. Dropped passes, mixed up plays; it felt like she was cursed. Or maybe this was exactly what she deserved. 

By the time Wood had finished, Ginny was so worked up that she couldn’t head back up to the castle. The air was frigid and it was getting dark, but Ginny was determined to get the nervous energy out of her system. She stayed behind as everyone packed up, waiting until they’d all left so she could spend some time alone on the pitch.

Standing, Ginny noticed that Harry had also stuck behind. He was sitting with his head in his hands, staring blankly at his locker. Maybe he was concerned about her and stayed behind to see if she was alright? A smile started to creep across her lips, and Ginny slid onto the bench next to him. “Hey. You alright?” she asked, giving him a little nudge.

Harry looked over at her, surprised. His eyes traced the room, as if just realizing the post-practice meeting was over. “Huh?”

“Are you okay, Harry?”

Harry looked offended for a moment, standing up quickly. “I’m fine. You think I can’t handle myself? I’m perfectly fine, alright?”

“Woah, sorry,” muttered Ginny. It was beginning to feel like he was annoyed with her all the time lately. What was she doing wrong? “Just forget it. Was I really as bad as Wood said today?”

Harry grunted, beginning to pack his things. “I don’t know, maybe. We’ve got a big match coming up, and we can’t lose. Just don’t blow this for us. We _ need _ to win.”

Ginny stayed silent for a moment, shocked that he’d actually said that to her. “You think I don’t know that we need to win? Didn’t I score enough goals last game to keep us ahead so you could take your time with Diggory?”

“I still caught the snitch, isn't that good enough for you? Or did you win that game all by yourself? You’re just here to take everything that’s mine, I'll bet. My friends, my family, quidditch. You know what? Forget it,” Harry shouted back, his breathing labored. Ginny had never seen him like this before, but she wasn’t about to back down.

“You know that isn’t what I mean. And I don’t know how you turned this around to being about you, but you can go shout at someone who cares!” Ginny slammed the door on her way back out onto the pitch. She hopped on her broom the moment she was outside, zooming away from the locker room. _ ‘Stupid idiot,’ _ she grumbled to herself, angrily wiping at her face. Her tears left streaks that stung in the cold, but the open air and rushing wind felt _ good _. They felt like the screaming in her soul, and she flew until the only sound left was the rapid beating of her heart.

* * *

Ginny sat alone, staring blankly at the goblet of lukewarm pumpkin juice before her. Tonight's Slug Club discussion had been lively, but Ginny had arrived late and missed Slughorn's introduction to the night's topic. She hadn't meant to be late; in fact, she was already in the common room a half hour before the dinner even started.

But she had wanted to wait for Harry. To fix things. So she sat and watched the other students head to the dining hall. Harry never came.

"Something troubling you?" Professor Slughorn asked, sitting down beside her.

"I suppose," said Ginny, tucking her hair behind her ear and looking around at the empty room. When had everyone else left? She couldn't even keep track of the simplest things anymore. How was she going to find the diary before another attack occurred? "I'm sorry, Professor," she said as she stood to leave, "I didn't realize it's gotten so late. I'll be out of your way."

"Not at all, not at all. How about we retreat to my office and you tell me what's on your mind. Oh, don't wave me off, I can hear the gears turning in your head from over here."

Ginny accepted the bottle of butterbeer he offered her as she sat down across from his desk. She sipped at it, feeling the refreshing, cold liquid bubble down her throat, somewhere between a cream soda and butterscotch. It was good.

"I feel like… well, I feel like I keep messing everything up. I've been rubbish at quidditch lately, I got in a big row with Harry after practice yesterday so he's avoiding me now, and everyone keeps whispering about me being the Heir of Slytherin, even though it doesn't make any sense. I just found Penelope first. Everything is going wrong," Ginny explained, ticking her problems off on her fingers. She didn't mention Tom and the diary, but it stayed at the back of her mind, an ever present stain on her conscience.

"It's easy to feel like the whole world is out to get you when you lump all the bad things together like that. But if you take them each alone, you'll see that you are more than capable of handling it all." Professor Slughorn took a sip of his wine and relaxed behind his desk. "Trust me, you're a smart and resilient girl. Let's take quidditch first, what happened yesterday?" 

Ginny told him about her terrible practice and the way Wood had chewed her out. It felt good to have someone to talk to, someone who could nod at all the right places and reassure her that everything wasn't as terrible as she feared. Slughorn reminded her how well she'd played against Hufflepuff -- he'd already written Gwenog Jones about it, he assured her -- and that she had plenty of time to keep practicing and improving.

"As for Mr. Potter, I expect he'll regret some of the things he said," continued the professor. "He might have skipped tonight's dinner because he's angry, but he might just be ashamed of his behavior. Another person's choices and behavior are not your responsibility."

Ginny nodded, wishing that were true, but it didn't make the guilt feel any less real. "That's not all of it. I made a big mistake, I… I'm not ready to talk about it yet, but I'm afraid it's spinning out of my control. And I wish I knew more magic. To fix things. I'm learning in some classes, but Defense Against the Dark Arts has been a waste of time when it feels like it should be the most important."

"We all make mistakes, big ones, too. I wish I could tell you that they stop after a while, but that hasn't been my experience." Slughorn sat quietly for a moment, his eyes focused on something Ginny couldn't see. She wondered if she should tell him about Tom; he'd known him after all, taught him even. But it felt like too big of an admission, so the moment passed in silence.

"As far as learning magic goes," continued Slughorn, shaking himself from his reverie, "that _ is _something I can help you with. I don't make a habit of speaking ill of my colleagues, but choosing Professor Lockhart to lead Defense was a mistake, in my opinion. I don't know what you know about last year's break in, but it's of vital importance that everyone is prepared for what may come. Students included.

"How about this, Ginny: I'll find some older Slug Club members who have a knack for instruction and pair you up to help fill some of the gaps in your education. I'm sure Headmaster Dumbledore would be amenable. You'd have to work extra hard to keep up with your studies; but if anyone should know how to defend themselves, it should be you. What do you say?"

Ginny smiled, unable to contain her relief. "That sounds perfect, Professor. I don't mind the extra work."

"Oh, I know you won't dear. I'll let you know once I've picked a suitable candidate, then we will set up weekly sessions and a curriculum. I'm sure the library has a more _ useful _ text than Gilderoy's autobiography. Do see what Madam Pince has on hand, will you?"

Ginny nodded, standing up to go. She was glad she'd come tonight, even if she hadn't been able to talk to Harry. "Thank you for the butterbeer, Professor, and for the talk."

"Of course, Ginny. Any time."

* * *

Ginny stared at the old photograph, watching with distaste as Tom casually threw his arm over another student’s shoulder. as if he were just some normal kid. She’d recognized his wolfish grin immediately from the memory -- _ his _memory -- when he’d tricked her and taken over her body. Even now it was difficult to think about the way his words had slithered into her mind, twisting her about… she shoved the thoughts away angrily. She didn’t have time for that now.

She had hoped that Sirius would have some useful ideas about the diary. Ginny hadn’t told him much of the details, just that it was cursed and could respond to you if you wrote to it. Sirius had written back that she should, under no circumstances, have a conversation with this book, and to immediately take it to Dumbledore. _ ‘A little too late for that,’ _ she thought, scowling.

Ginny set the yearbook aside; it didn’t hold any useful information and Tom's face had begun to haunt her. Tom had been right about one thing; Headmaster Dippet had cleaned up the whole affair quietly. When she'd started to look into Tom, and later Voldemort, there was even less information. At least in the books she was looking through. Maybe the newspapers held more -- or the Restricted Section.

Ginny sat quietly, wondering which direction to take her research. She had hoped there would be lots of books about Voldemort, but it seemed it was too soon and the wounds of war were still too fresh.

Maybe the diary was the only part that mattered? Maybe the ‘monster’ was just whoever he was controlling? That seemed too simple for someone who considered himself the greatest wizard that ever lived. Tom cared about _flair_, about the dramatics of it all. He couldn't just murder a student, he had to brand himself a hero and win an award for it, while pinning it on someone he considered inferior. A half-breed, a first year, a Gryffindor. Either way, the diary had to be using some type of dark magic that was able to possess its victims. She knew that first hand.

“Hey, any luck on…?” asked Colin, trailing off as he stared at the yearbook photo. The young Voldemort was now presenting his prefect badge with a smirk.

“Not really. I can’t find much here, and Madam Pince said she closes the newspaper archives after lunch on weekends, so I’ll have to wait until tomorrow. I think that’s my best bet for now,” answered Ginny, beginning to pack her bag and set aside the books she didn’t need.

“You might want to look into some of the trials of the Death Eaters and You Know Who’s followers that _ didn’t _ go to Azkaban,” suggested Ada, leaning in close to whisper. “My dad used to tell me that there were two kinds of people that avoided prison after the war: the kind who were rich enough to lie about it, and the kind who turned on _ him _ and gave the aurors his secrets.”

“Used to?” asked Ginny hesitantly.

Ada nodded. “Yeah, dad says we shouldn’t talk about it in public anymore, not when anything could happen.”

Colin scrunched his face in concentration. “Not when anything could happen about what?”

Ada met Ginny's glance; they both knew exactly what Ada’s father had meant, and _ who _ he’d been speaking about. He was afraid it might happen again.

* * *

_ “Reducto!” _ shouted Ginny, blasting a flower pot to pieces with the curse. Now _ this _ was some real magic; she could practice this for hours. Melody Fawley, a Hufflepuff and Slug Club member, had been paired to help teach her some of the magic she _ wasn’t _ learning from Lockhart.

“Good, but you can do better. You’ve got a knack for it, I’ll give you that,” admitted Melody. “But you don’t need to cast with such a wide arc. The power comes from the spell and the witch, not from how big or grand you can cast. Keep it fast and efficient.”

Ginny tried again, focusing on keeping her movements swift and to the point, practicing the casting motion over and over to retrain herself.

"Alright, that's looking good now. Here, let's try again. _ Reparo,_' cast Melody, pointing at the shattered remains of the flower pot. In a moment, it had reassembled, putting itself back together piece by piece.

Ginny cast with the new motion and the spell went off with a crack, shattering the pot with just as much power as before. She smiled, wiping the sweat from her brow.

"There you go, nicely done! That's as good as any third year I've seen. Keep practicing and you'll be an expert by the end of term. The Reductor Curse is incredibly useful at blasting obstacles and solid objects," she explained, "but it won't affect people or animals, or things like liquid or gas. Remember that casting the spell correctly is only half the work. Choosing the right spell for the situation is even more important."

Ginny nodded, committing the information to memory. "What spells can you use on people? Like if I was attacked?"

Melody smiled, something dark and gleeful in her expression. "Oh, don't worry, there are plenty of those. Slug wants you to learn the shield charm, _ protego, _first. After that, well, some say the best defense is a good offense. We'll practice the shield next week, then we can move on to the Impediment Curse and stunners once you've mastered it."

A stunning spell sounded just like what Ginny would need, especially if she came across the Heir in a hallway. She thanked Melody for the lesson, glad that Slughorn had taken such an interest in her. Maybe this was exactly what she needed to get back on track.


	9. Don’t You Want Me

##  **Don’t You Want Me**

_ Don't, don't you want me? _

_ You know I can't believe it when I hear that you won't see me _

_ Don't, don't you want me? _

_ You know I don't believe you when you say that you don't need me _

_ It's much too late to find _

_ You think you've changed your mind _

_ You'd better change it back or we will both be sorry _

  * __The Human League, 1981__

Follow along to [ Ginny’s Mixtape ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3kDLc9BK6sFjDCQ9lpZNyv)

* * *

"AND ANOTHER GOAL FOR WEASLEY! THE GRYFFINDOR CHASERS CONTINUE TO PULL AHEAD WITH THEIR SUPERB PLAY!"

Ginny whooped, taking a smooth arc around the goal posts as she turned back to play defense. The Ravenclaw chasers had a strong lineup, but the new plays that the Gryffindors had been practicing in secret were paying off. It was clear that Ravenclaw had been studying their match against Hufflepuff and prepared for the old set, only to be caught off guard with the new strategy.

The game was getting late, and the goals were beginning to pile up on either side as the seekers sought the snitch. Ginny hadn't been watching much, but as far as she could tell, Harry had hardly made any sprints for the snitch. Had he even sighted it yet? It was especially frustrating after he'd chewed her out after practice last week. _ 'Hypocrite,' _thought Ginny angrily, setting herself up to play defense.

Maybe she was imagining it, but it seemed like Harry was mostly trailing the Ravenclaw seeker; as if he couldn't be bothered to look for the snitch himself. _ 'She's an attractive girl, he's probably more interested in getting to know her than win the game,' _ whispered Tom's voice, seeking to needle her. She kept her eyes on the quaffle and drowned out the thoughts as she flew with reckless abandon.

After the match, Wood was especially downtrodden. He sat in silence for a full three minutes as the team stared at him, the pressure in the locker room building as everyone became increasingly agitated. Finally, he spoke.

"I'm struggling to find the words for today. Most of you played magnificently. There was strong cohesion; we moved the quaffle well and the plays were working, we harried them with bludgers…" 

"Just say it then!" shouted Harry, standing up and slamming his broom into his locker. "Blame me for it! It's all down to the seeker, isn't it? It's always down to me."

Wood stared at him, shocked into silence. The tension in the room felt suffocating, and Ginny could feel her cheeks start to burn. Was she embarrassed for Harry? Why did she care after the way he'd been treating her?

"What, I can't have an off day? I have to…" 

"Harry, I don't know what you're on about, but lashing out at your teammates after you just had a shit match is unacceptable. We win as a team, we lose as a team. _ That _ is how quidditch is played, Potter."

"Whatever," snapped Harry, heading for the door.

"We're not done here, Potter," growled Wood, his face turning red. "If you walk out that door, you'll be buying the team laps until you come back. Do you want that on your conscience?"

Harry looked back over his shoulder, his face a mask of festering rage. "Don't wait up."

And then he was gone. 

* * *

Ginny hobbled down the corridor toward the kitchens, trying to remember the directions Fred and George had given her. Wood had kept them running so late that she'd missed dinner. She _ had _ spent the last half hour looking for Harry, so she supposed it was partially her fault too. She was beginning to get worried about him; there was something going on, she just hadn't figured it out yet.

Ginny stifled a yawn, resisting the urge to rub her eyes. She still had a charms essay to finish tonight, and she was due in the astronomy tower for observations at ten. Today really couldn’t get any worse.

Coming toward her, Ginny could hear whispers arguing back and forth, their intensity slowly building as she moved closer.

"...HUNGER… NEED... FLESSSSH… THE BOY… SSSSSO… SSSSOFFFFFT… AND..." 

"_Enough of that, you'll have your fill soon. Each step I take is measured, each move brings me closer to my goal. I don’t expect you to see that. I'll build on their fear until chaos reigns, then you'll have all the flesh you desire…" _

Ginny froze, panicking. The second voice had to be Tom; it was so familiar, but different, layered with laughter and malice. That meant the first voice was likely the monster, just like she'd heard before. There was nowhere for her to hide, the sounds were coming closer and closer, directly toward her. She moved to the side, pressing herself against the wall with her wand clutched tightly in her fist. She didn't know much magic, but she wasn't going down without a fight.

Ginny crouched, waiting for the moment when she could make out their shapes, but nothing happened. The voices moved past her and continued onward. The end of the corridor remained empty, the whispers retreating into silence. It didn't make any sense; how could they have gotten past her? Were they somehow inside the walls, as before? Where had they gone? Ginny decided to walk the way the voices had come from; up ahead and down a side passage. If she remembered correctly, she was nearly at the Hufflepuff common room.

Down the hallway, Ginny saw shadows in the dark, illuminated from behind by a bright glow on the floor. She plastered herself against the wall, wondering if she’d found the source of the voices after all. She stayed as still as she could, watching for any movement. Nothing. Ginny edged closer and saw that one of the shadows looked transparent. A ghost? 

Screwing up her courage, she cast _ lumos_, shining the light of her wand on whatever was in the hall. The light illuminated the corridor and Ginny could easily see what had been casting the shadows: Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, and Justin Finch-Fletchley, a Hufflepuff. Nick looked as if he’d turned from a nearly corporeal ghost to scattered wisps of darkened smoke, tendrils of it floating languidly on some unseen breeze. Justin was clearly petrified, his eyes open in shock as he stared at the ghost. His arm was outstretched, as if he’d been holding his wand out before him, though it now lay on the floor nearby.

“You students should be getting to bed soon, don’t want to be roaming these corridors after hours while…” chided Professor Sprout as she came alongside Ginny. “Oh Merlin! It’s happened again! Get away from there, dear. Go and fetch the Headmaster -- you know where his office is? Well, of course you do.” She waved frantically for Ginny to go, pulling her wand out and watching the hallway with determination.

Ginny nodded, not knowing what to say. Then she turned and ran, making straight for Dumbledore’s office. Professor Sprout had sent her to tell the headmaster; that had to mean she didn't suspect Ginny, right?

Thinking of how Nearly Headless Nick had looked, Ginny suppressed a shiver. She didn't know much about ghosts, but had assumed that once dead, a person couldn't be hurt anymore. That was just proven wrong very thoroughly. What could possibly hurt a ghost?

She pushed the thoughts away and focused on finding the right statue that led to Dumbledore's office. Hopefully he hadn't changed the password since her last visit; it had been 'treacle tart' then.

As Ginny approached, the statue began to turn, revealing the hidden stairway before she'd even gotten there. There was something uncanny about Dumbledore, about the way he seemed to know things that no one had told him, or how could hear things that weren't said out loud. Still, he hadn't asked her about Tom, and for that she was grateful.

"Ms. Weasley, I have a feeling that this is more than just a pleasant visit. Let's head back up to my office and have a seat. Would you like anything to drink? A hot cocoa, perhaps?"

Ginny shook her head, steeling herself. "No professor, there's been another attack, down by the kitchens. Professor Sprout sent me to find you."

"I see," said the headmaster, not particularly surprised but still looking very unnerved. And tired. "I'll have to contact the Minister, would you mind waiting for me upstairs while I use the floo? Thank you dear."

* * *

"I'll have the wand tested using _prior incantato _if that will satisfy you. I assume it will?"

"For now, Albus, but our patience is beginning to fray. We've put up with your antics for a long time, but that was only because you were doing the job. If you can't keep the children safe, we'll need to make changes. As Minister, I'm choosing to exercise some of my emergency powers to authorize the presence of an auror. For safety purposes, of course."

Dumbledore stroked his beard, staring deeply into the green flames in his fireplace. "A retired auror would be best, if you wouldn't mind, Cornelius."

"That's Prime Minister Fudge to you until this is sorted. The Heritage Party is calling for blood over this, and it's all I can do to keep them from calling for your resignation. I'll see what I can do about getting someone who's off the force, as I'm sure Scrimgeour would prefer to keep his men on hand. We'll floo with details in the morning."

Dumbledore stared at the flames, watching as they turned back to their normal orange as Fudge's head faded from view. "I suppose you'll have gathered who that was?"

"The Prime Minister of Magic," answered Ginny. She'd met him when she'd visited the Ministry over winter break with James. He'd seemed nice enough when they'd met, but James had said he was too _ centrist _ for his tastes. That he'd choose what's politically convenient over what's right, whatever that meant.

Dumbledore nodded. "Quite right, dear. Now, hand me your wand please, Ms. Weasley. I'll examine this quickly and be over with it."

He drew his own wand, touching their tips as he coerced the last spell from Ginny's.

_ "Lumos," _whispered the ghost of Ginny's voice, sounding strange in her ears as her wand lit with light once again. It wasn't as solid or bright, like the memory of a spell that had already been cast.

“That will do then,” announced Dumbledore, quickly handing the wand back to Ginny. “I’ll need to speak with the other professors about this, please wait here.”

Ginny nodded, stowing her wand away. “Yes, sir. I didn’t petrify Justin, Professor Dumbeldore. Or whatever happened to Nearly Headless Nick. I was only heading to the kitchens because I’d missed dinner.”

“Thank you, Ginevra. Think on what you saw while I was gone, and I’ll make sure you have some dinner sent up while you wait.”

Ginny stretched in the chair as she waited for Dumbledore to return, her body feeling heavy with fatigue and hunger. It felt like no matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried or how well she prepared, trouble just kept coming her way.

As tired as she was, Ginny could still only wait for a few minutes before getting restless. Dumbledore’s office was incredible, and she hadn’t had the opportunity to explore it when she’d been here last. There were all sorts of instruments and gadgets she’d never seen, but she was careful not to touch any of them. She’d begun to learn the power that objects could hold and was wary of anything that looked too inviting.

Across the walls were the portraits of many old witches and wizards, all painted sitting in the headmaster’s office. They all appeared to be snoring, their heads drooping low in their frames. Standing separate on a large perch was a single animal; an odd looking bird whose grey feathers still held the faded pigments of what must’ve been a beautiful plumage in its youth. It turned to Ginny, a pleasant expression on its face, and coughed twice as if gagging on something rather terrible. And then it burst into flames.

Ginny stared at the bird in shock, struck dumb by the horrible sight before her. The bird didn’t seem to mind, however, settling its feathers restlessly as it slowly turned to ash. _ ‘That’s it, I’m done. I somehow killed his special bird, and I didn’t even touch it,’ _ Ginny thought with dismay, turning at the sound of footsteps.

“A pity you had to see him on a burning day,” observed Dumbledore, his eyes trained on the ball of flames that had been his bird.

“I swear, Professor Dumbledore, I didn’t touch it or its stand or anything. It just happened and… and… the bird…” stammered Ginny, trying to pull herself together.

“...Is a phoenix,” finished Dumbledore, holding his hands out to calm Ginny. “Fawkes, and other phoenixes like him, are reborn from their ashes when they die. You’ll probably see him poking his head about in a few minutes. They’re remarkable creatures, phoenixes. Incredibly loyal and intelligent, able to carry immense loads, and tears that can heal any wound.”

Ginny returned to her seat, nearly collapsing into it with exhaustion. At some point, someone must’ve brought a tray of food for her, though she hadn’t seen them arrive or leave. Compared to everything else that had happened that day, it barely registered as noteworthy. “They sound very useful, phoenixes.”

“Indeed they are. Fawkes even gave two feathers to Mr. Ollivander to use as wand cores. One of those lies in your own wand, in fact.”

Ginny froze, nearly dropping her fork. She remembered what the wandmaker had told her when she’d been paired with her wand. Her own wand had a cousin, wielded by the man who’d given her the infamous scar. Lord Voldemort, as he’d named himself. Mr. Ollivander had also said that it was the wand that chooses the witch, so somehow the wands must’ve _ known _ about what Tom would do. Or maybe what he'd already done when she received hers? How could a wand _ know _anything? And what did that mean about magic -- was it something broader, a force like gravity, that witches and wizards could tap into? Or was it something innate within herself? Did it mean that everything been set in motion long before she was born, every choice just leading her closer to the same inevitable outcome?

“The wand with the other feather…”

“Went to _ him _ ,” finished Ginny. She didn’t want to think about her having this _ connection _ to Tom, especially after what he’d just done. He’d laugh at her and say it was destiny, that she was always meant to fall by his hand as he claimed his birthright. _ ‘I bet that precious prophecy of Tom’s can go both ways,’ _ thought Ginny angrily. It was just like with football; they’d always doubted her, underestimated her, tried to cheapen her victories. She’d show Tom, too, just like she’d shown the rest of them.

"Remember, you don't have to bear this alone, Ginevra," said Professor Dumbledore after a pause. "Help will always come at Hogwarts to those who ask for it, you need only say the word."

* * *

Ginny shuffled into the Great Hall with the rest of her classmates, doing her best to get close to the platform that had been set up in the middle of the room. Colin and Ada followed behind her, managing to sneak their way to the front of the crowd.

“What’s this even for?” asked Colin, looking annoyed at being jostled. “Did we just come to the front because other people were lining up?”

“Of course,” shooshed Ada. “If it wasn't good, why would people be lining up? I bet it’s going to be a big announcement. Maybe they caught the _ Heir. _”

Much to Ginny’s disappointment, Lockhart was the first person to walk out on stage. She should’ve known he’d be behind this overblown presentation. His increasingly small fan base cheered wildly for him, making up for their dwindling numbers in enthusiasm. Bonkers.

“Thank you, thank you! What a great crowd we’ve got here today, and I didn’t even have to tease that I was coming!” He laughed at his own joke, letting it go on for an awkwardly long amount of time. This was going to be torture.

“Today, I’ve brought you all here for the start of something special. Something to get your minds off this whole Chamber nonsense and back to learning some useful magic, as taught by me: Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class. Welcome, my dear students, to the inaugural Hogwarts Dueling Club!”

Lockhart proceeded to walk them through the basics of dueling etiquette, spending nearly thirty minutes telling a story about how many different villages he’d saved by dueling, and how all the village elders and wise women had said his bow was regal and intimidating. Finally, Professor Slughorn took the stage to stand opposite Lockhart, each bowing in turn.

“We’ll only be using disarming spells today,” announced Lockhart, preening in the spotlight. “Don’t worry, dear students, you’ll still have your potions professor in one piece when I’m through with him!”

As much as Ginny enjoyed watching Lockhart be humiliated, she had to admit that the duel was over almost too quickly to be satisfying. Lockhart had made a big show of drawing his wand with a flourish, and Slughorn had easily blasted him with a powerful _ expelliarmus_, knocking the other professor off his feet. Nearly the whole crowd cheered, Ginny chief among them.

“I was taught that one by an Order of Merlin, _ second _ class, Gilderoy. I suppose I must’ve just gotten lucky, unless of course _ second _ class is higher than third?” announced Slughorn smugly. 

Lockhart composed himself, taking some effort to quiet the crowd. "All for demonstration purposes, of course. A real duel, well, I wouldn't be so sure of yourself if I were you, Horace. But today is about you, my students. Let's have volunteers!"

Harper Selwyn nearly dove onto the stage, shoving aside two other first years to get the honor. Ginny thought of the smug look on his face as he walked the halls, the way he 'joked' that the heir was just cleaning house, that it was just what Hogwarts needed. She gripped her wand tightly and stepped onto the platform.

"What are you doing?" hissed Ada, grasping for Ginny to come back. "That git probably knows some forbidden spells from his Death Eater father."

"I have to do this," said Ginny simply, steeling herself as she made her way to face off with Selwyn. The crowd around them cheered and shouted, though Ginny was sure they were just excited by the prospect of violence.

Lockhart and Slughorn walked them through the etiquette once again, and then set them ready to go. "You'll only be using shield charms and disarms, nothing stronger than that, understand?"

Both Ginny and Selwyn nodded, but she didn't believe for a second that he'd keep to that. She focused her breathing, keying in on the movements of his hands and body. The eyes could lie, but the hands didn't. _ 'This is just like a penalty kick,' _ thought Ginny, _ 'it's all in the mind.' _

"DUEL!" shouted Lockhart, and Ginny's vision went tunnel on her opponent.

"_Expeliarmus!" _she cast, anticipating his movement, but he dodged just in time, the errant spell sending Neville's wand flying.

Selwyn took the opportunity to cast a jelly-legs jinx at her, but Ginny's _ protego _ absorbed the spell, and she felt the magic break against it. Sidestepping, Ginny cast a bodybind hex, but Selwyn was fast and deflected it.

Ginny noticed a large coat of arms hanging on the ledge directly behind Selwyn. Usually they were above the students' heads, but the added elevation from the stage put it directly in line with her opponent. Ginny pulled her wand back to cast _ accio _at the coat of arms just as Selwyn sent a stinging hex her way. She used her elbow to block it, immediately regretting it as painful sores broke out over her arm. She gritted her teeth and cast the spell, the coat of arms smashing into the back of his head and sending him sprawling.

"You'll pay for that, you blood traitor bitch!" he screamed, his voice cracking as he grabbed the back of his head. He sent another spell Ginny's way, but this one was different. A long snake uncoiled from his wand, slithering toward her in undulating waves.

Ginny panicked and cast a shield charm at it to no effect. Next, she blasted the ground in front of it with _ reducto, _but she missed by a few inches. The snake bounced into the air and became increasingly agitated, now turning toward the crowd as it reared back to strike. Ginny saw Colin in the front row, his face pale as the snake focused on him.

_ "Get away from him you stupid snake! I swear I’ll blast you!" _shouted Ginny, brandishing her wand. The words felt strange in her mouth, like she'd shouted them but hadn't heard them come out. Had she cast some sort of spell without knowing it? Was that even possible? The snake turned toward her, lowering itself back to its belly as it watched her, uncertain.

_ "Did you... did you listen to what I said?" _asked Ginny, confused. The snake watched her, slowly nodding its head as if that was the most obvious thing in the world.

Ginny looked around, realizing that the students were all staring at her in shock. Even the professors looked surprised. Had she really just talked to a snake? Was that a strange thing to do?

"She's the bloody heir of Slytherin," said a Hufflepuff near the front of the stage, "she petrified Justin. He probably saw her up to something!"

"And she petrified Penelope Clearwater! And she's a fifth year!" shouted another student. “Just because Penelope said she looked rather boring!”

The crowd began to back away, the noise of hundreds of conversations and accusations echoing in the Great Hall. Colin still stood a few feet from the stage, staring blankly at the spot where the snake had been as he shivered involuntarily. Ginny walked over to him, leaving the snake coiled on the stage as it watched her.

"You alright, Colin? Sorry I blasted the snake at you, I was trying to get it to stop attacking you when I…"

"When you showed the whole school that you spoke parseltongue," finished Ada, exasperated. She began tugging Ginny away from the platform. "Come on, let's get you out of here before the rumors start flying. Merlin, Ginny, nothing is ever easy with you, is it?"

“I’m sure loads of people here can do it,” argued Ginny, feeling nervous. “Why is it a big deal?”

Ada shook her head adamantly. “Not parselmouth. It’s an old magic, a _ hereditary _ magic. There aren’t that many old wizarding families left, and there are even fewer that can boast of knowing parseltongue. The Weasleys aren’t one. But I bet you can guess a wizard who was famous for it.”

“I don’t know, just tell me what you’re getting at,” huffed Ginny.

Ada frowned, pointing at the banner above their heads. "There's a reason Salazar Slytherin chose the snake as his sigil."

* * *

“Make way, make way! Clear the halls, the Heir of Slytherin approaches!" shouted George, parading in front of Ginny as they walked.

"Look away, mere mortals, lest her deadly stare turn you to stone!" yelled Fred, taking up the game. The other students made a path for them, some laughing a little at the twins' joke while others simply averted their eyes.

The last few days had been some of Ginny's toughest at Hogwarts to date. Students mostly avoided her, except Selwyn, who was actively spreading rumors about all the other 'evidence' that Ginny was the Heir. At first, the twins' stunt had annoyed her, but as the day wore on she realized they were making a joke of the whole claim, and other students had started to act more normally around her. Or at least less afraid.

Ginny was still troubled about knowing how to speak parseltongue. How could she know a language that she'd never even heard of? That she didn't even know she was speaking? It didn't make any sense, and Ginny had always been rubbish in language class at school. Ada had insisted that was how it worked, though. Speaking parseltongue was a hereditary trait like her red hair; it was just a part of her. None of her brothers could speak it, though. At least as far as they knew. Maybe her parents had spoken it, or her brothers that had died, but she couldn’t ask them now.

All in all, it felt like rather damning evidence that she was somehow tied to Slytherin. She thought of the way that Slytherin's voice had spoken about her during the sorting and tried to push it from her mind. Wouldn’t he have fought harder if she’d been the heir? She ended up in Gryffindor after all; that had to mean something, didn't it?

Ginny wondered if Tom was somehow the cause of all of this. Was she somehow the heir because of his diary? He'd been the previous heir, maybe the people he possessed could speak parseltongue too? She'd never tried it before the duel, she wasn't sure if it was something new. Ginny would have to bring it up with Ada and Colin, but she didn't even know how to begin answering those questions.

"Ginny, hey, Ginny," nudged Fred, bringing her back to the present. "This muggleborn is trying to speak to you, want us to petrify him? Or are you planning on eating him whole?"

"Oooh that's good, Fred, she's both the heir _ and _the monster! Maybe we could bewitch a costume to…"

"Oh sod off," laughed Ginny, shoving them both. "Don't you have a teacher to torment somewhere else?"

The twins laughed and headed back down the hall, leaving Ginny alone with Colin as they walked to potions. “Sorry about them, they think everything is a joke,” explained Ginny, feeling awkward. Maybe it hadn’t been long enough since the last attack, or maybe there were just too many similarities for her to really feel comfortable with the comparisons.

“I’ve had plenty worse,” laughed Colin. He moved his head a little closer, whispering, “Actually, if you have time before dinner, I think I might have found a lead. A real one. It’s about the last time the Chamber was opened. I just need to find a few things in the library first, to make sure.”

“I’ve got practice _ ten minutes _after last period," Ginny groaned. "Can you tell me now? Or maybe after dinner?”

“Well, I don’t really know anything useful yet, but I think I’m about to. There’s some mention of Hogwarts donating money for a student memorial, but I haven’t found anything else. The year lines up, but that’s all I’ve got so far. There was an article I was going to read about it later, I think it's about the student that died.”

"That sounds like a good lead. Let's meet in the common room after dinner. Can you tell Ada if you see her?"

"Of course!" answered Colin, always eager to please. "I think it's going to be big, 'take it to Dumbledore' kind of big."

_ 'It would be good to finally have a break in the research'_, thought Ginny glumly. It had been a difficult slog; whenever she felt like she was making progress, the thread would come to an unsatisfying end. Tom had hidden his tracks well with intimidation and lies; half the articles or stories she'd found about Voldemort were conflicting with each other. Some even argued that he'd had the right idea, that he wasn't truly a threat and was just focused on 'wizard's rights'. Those were all from before his rise and subsequent downfall, but it still made her feel sick.

* * *

After practice, Ginny made her way to dinner, still feeling apprehensive about Colin's news. It sounded like he had a good lead, but she'd had her own false starts before. She tried not to get her hopes up in case it was just another dead end.

Once she sat, Ginny immediately began piling her plate with food. Wood had been pushing them harder and harder in practice now that they were down to their last match, and it was all she could do to keep from taking a nap at the table.

They were scheduled to play against Slytherin next, and Ginny wanted to beat them more than anything. They would still have a chance if they win their next match _ and _ Ravenclaw loses by a decent margin against Hufflepuff, but it felt like a pipe dream at this point. Still, she was proud of how she'd played this year; it _ was _only the first time she'd ever played quidditch.

Halfway through dinner, Ginny began to get nervous. Where was Colin? Had he decided to stay in the library to finish his research? Or were they supposed to meet him in the common room? It wasn't like him to skip out, but she supposed if it got them the information they needed, it didn't really matter. Maybe she was overreacting, but Colin's continued absence filled her with a sense of foreboding, dread even.

After dinner, Ginny and Ada decided to head to the library, hoping they'd find Colin there. "If he was waiting for us in the common room, wouldn't he have just come to the Great Hall first?" reasoned Ada. "He must've gotten caught up with his reading and wanted to finish. It happens to me all the time."

Madam Pince was quick to confirm that Colin had been there, but he'd left in a rush, hours earlier. "It looked like he'd forgotten about his classes and ran off to catch the bell. He didn't even check out any of the books he was reading, I've kept them aside in case he comes back."

"Thank you, Madam Pince. Did he say where he was headed?"

"Not a word from that one," answered the librarian, shaking her head. "If you see him, remind him there's no running in the library. And if he wants his books, he'll need to come and get them. I don't do deliveries, you know."

* * *

Back in the common room, there was still no sign of Colin. _ 'It's not like him to just vanish,' _ thought Ginny, picking at her fingernails as she began to worry. _ 'Maybe he found something important and went straight to Dumbledore? He had said something about that... ' _

"There you are. Ms. Weasley and Ms. Shafiq, please follow me," came Professor McGonagall's sharp tone as she entered the common room. "I'm afraid that I have some shocking news."

Even before she said the words, Ginny knew what had happened. Colin was attacked. Petrified. Whatever lead he'd discovered about the girl who died fifty years ago was gone, but at least he was still alive.

Ginny felt as if her whole world had fallen apart. She watched Professor McGonagall's mouth moving, but she had stopped listening. Colin was the one who knew how to encourage them when everything looked terrible. He'd found the lead -- she just knew that he had -- and had probably been rushing to tell them. What were they going to do without him? 

Tom had stolen Colin from Ginny, just as they'd started to catch his trail. It was about more than attacking muggle-born students to him, Tom was coming after Ginny and anyone she held dear. This was a warming; stay out of his way.

There was a fire in her chest now, replacing the fear and sorrow that had dwelled there with anger. How _ dare _Tom come after her people, how dare he think that she was weak and helpless. She'd show him, she'd rip his soul out of that book and… 

"... and he had his camera with him, would you mind keeping it for him?"

"His camera?" asked both Ada and Ginny, sharing a look. If he had his camera, maybe he'd been able to snap a photo. Maybe he'd caught the attacker in the act.

Professor McGonagall nodded, handing it over. Ginny took it, quickly looking to see if he'd had any film loaded when he'd been attacked.

"Do you think he maybe got a photo? Of whoever…" asked Ada, trailing off as Ginny opened the back of the camera. Thick smoke and a tar-like melted goo began to spill out the back, the fumes dark and acrid.

Ginny stared at the mess in shock. Another dead end. Maybe he'd taken a picture, but it hadn't survived the attack. What could hurt a ghost _and_ destroy film without even touching it?

"What do we do now?" Ginny wondered aloud, cradling the remains of their only good lead in her hands. "What _ can _we do?"

Professor McGonagall shook her head, putting a comforting hand on each of their shoulders. "We stick together and we carry on, and we do whatever we can to assist with Professor Sprout's batch of mandrake. They're the key to waking these poor students," she explained.

Just carry on, as if her world wasn’t falling apart all around her.

Ginny and Ada nodded, making their solemn way toward the hospital wing. They didn't talk much, both knowing that beyond losing their momentum, they'd also lost a friend.

"He probably figured something out and went straight to find the heir, that honorable idiot," guessed Ada as she wiped at her eyes. "I told him he'd be a target, being muggle-born, didn't I? I tried to warn him, I tried to keep him safe…" 

"We both did," agreed Ginny, feeling the tightness in her throat. "That's Colin; just running off to snap a photo. Trying to help, not even thinking of the danger he'd be in."

"Mmm," agreed Ada, her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her robe. There wasn't much else to say.

* * *

Ginny stood firm, arms crossed across her chest. "He's our friend, Madam Pomfrey, our _ best _ friend. Can't we just see him, even if only for a few minutes?"

"As I said, it's out of the question, he's only just been brought in. I can't have students barging into the infirmary demanding to see patients; we've got work to do. You want us to help him don't you?" she explained, as she barred the door. "His parents will be here in the morning, you may come back and see him after that, and not a moment sooner."

"What now?" asked Ada, her voice flat with fatigue. Her eyes were rimmed with red as she pinned Ginny with her stare.

"We just… we keep pushing onward. We've got to keep searching, we've got to figure it out. For Colin."

"That's all well and good, but how? We've got nothing, we're back to zero! Face it Ginny, we lost," snapped Ada, her fists balled in fury. "_He _ beat us, it was stupid to think we ever stood a chance. My dad was right, there's no winning against _ You Know Who_. The best you can do is lay low and survive."

Maybe Ada was right. It was stupid to think she had a chance, that she could outsmart the dark lord. She was just a kid, a kid that didn’t understand her place. Ginny growled, kicking the wall hard. The pain blossomed in her toes, making its way up her leg. It felt _ good _to just feel something. Something other than failure and regret.

"Wait," said Ginny, remembering something what Madam Pince had said. "We can go back to the library."

"And what? Just start reading random tomes and hoping for an answer? Ginny, I've searched everywhere; I can't find anything useful. Don't you think dozens of more qualified wizards, hundreds even, have already looked for the Chamber? It's a waste of time."

"No, Colin found something, remember? Madam Pince said…" 

"That he'd left his books -- maybe we can retrace his steps!" Ada gave a small smile, patting Ginny's back. "Sorry, you're right. We can't just give up. To the library then?"

* * *

"You've got fifteen minutes," allowed the librarian. "Then I'm walking you both back to the Gryffindor common room myself. I'm sorry to hear about little Mr. Creevey, girls, really I am. He's such a sweet boy. But I can't let you run around the castle so late, especially now. The attacks have been getting closer and closer, it won't be long before… Well, nevermind that, get along to your reading and be quick about it."

"We understand, fifteen minutes," confirmed Ada as Ginny carried the stack of books to a table.

Colin's research was a jumble of books and articles with very little obvious overlap. Ada kept muttering about keeping proper notes as she flipped through the materials, trying to sort each piece by its subject.

"He was reading the yearbook?" Ginny wondered aloud. "Maybe he was looking for the student who died?"

"I guess, but I don't see how that would be helpful. Was he going to send an owl to her parents asking what happened? If they knew, wouldn't someone have figured it out already?"

Ginny shrugged, starting to skim an article about some trial at the Wizengamot. Ada was probably right; what could they find that fully trained witches and wizards couldn't?

"Did Colin say anything about what he'd found?"

"Just that he thought he was about to find something big. He thought it was about the student that got murdered. There was a…" Ginny stopped, recognition dawning as she read a passage. "Wait, here it is. He said that Hogwarts made some kind of donation, for a student memorial. There's a court case, here, with the Ministry and the Warren family."

"Let me have it." Ada snatched the article impatiently, reading through it quickly as Ginny looked for anything similar. After a few minutes she set it down. "Alright, it sounds like the Warren family had a daughter at Hogwarts in the 1940s, and she died here somehow. I think the Ministry covered it up, but they wanted an investigation. They wanted to have someone caught and punished, but the Wizengamot ignored their demands because they were muggles. It says that Dumbledore…"

"Wait, what does it matter that they were muggles?" asked Ginny.

Ada frowned. "It's… well, in wizard law, muggles and squibs don't have any rights, see? They couldn't make demands of the court, so Dumbledore represented them instead. But the court decided it was a matter of utmost importance to keep it quiet, and called on the Statute of Secrecy to justify their inaction. Dumbledore said it was a sham, but the Wizengamot didn't care. So instead…"

"I'm sorry, dearies, but it's been nearly half an hour. You can bring the books with you, but I want to see you first thing in the morning to check them out properly, alright?"

Ginny and Ada gathered the books, following Madam Pince back to the Gryffindor common room. Once she'd stopped working, stopped thinking, Ginny felt as if all the exhaustion had hit her at once.

"Do you think we can find her in the yearbook?" asked Ada, hoisting the books up to balance them better. "We know her last name is probably Warren, and the one Colin had was from the year before the attack. She wasn't a first year when it happened, was she?" 

Ginny shrugged, trying to recall the article. She was pretty sure it hadn't said much about their daughter, but the yearbook might be just what they needed. "It's worth a shot either way."

After telling the Fat Lady their password, '_Fortuna Major _', Ginny and Ada slipped back into the common room. It was late, and the flames in the fireplace had begun to sputter out. The other students must've all headed to bed, the attack having a chilling effect on what would otherwise have been a rowdy Friday night. The silence in the room started to hit home for Ginny, and she let her books spill across a table.

"Here, I'll start on the yearbook," offered Ada as Ginny rested her eyes. "It should be easy enough to find her."

Ginny stared at the fire in silence, watching as the wood crackled and popped. Ada sat beside her, flipping quickly through the yearbook's pages. After a short while, the pages stopped turning and Ginny looked up to find Ada staring at her, ashen faced.

"It's not here. Ginny, the whole page is gone."

Ginny's eyes snapped to Ada, her face ashen as she stared at the book in silence. She could make out the torn edges of the page, ripped haphazardly from the book in a rush. It was too convenient to be an accident, someone had definitely ripped it out on purpose.

"I don't know if this is from a long time ago, or…" 

"Or someone knows we're on to them and they're covering their tracks," finished Ginny. They were too late. Had someone been watching Colin, and then made sure he couldn’t talk? Would they be watching Ginny and Ada now, too? 

She slammed the book down onto the table, making Ada jump. She'd be damned if she gave up now. Maybe someone was watching them, but that just meant that they were on the right trail. 

_'It won't be long now, Tom,' _ promised Ginny as she gathered the books to go to bed. _ 'I'm coming for you.' _The voice in her mind was quiet now, but she didn't have to work hard to imagine his laughter.


	10. The Killing Moon

##  **The Killing Moon**

_ Under blue moon I saw you _

_ So soon you'll take me _

_ Up in your arms too late to beg you _

_ Or cancel it though I know it must be _

_ The killing time _

_ Unwillingly mine _

_ Fate _

_ Up against your will _

_ Through the thick and thin _

_ He will wait until _

_ You give yourself to him _

  * __Echo & The Bunnymen, 1984__

Follow along to [ Ginny’s Mixtape ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3kDLc9BK6sFjDCQ9lpZNyv)

* * *

When she heard that quidditch was canceled, the first thing Ginny felt was relief. And guilt, but mostly relief. Wood had been catatonic when he heard the news, nearly collapsing on Fred for support. It was a testament to how truly wretched he was that the twins didn't take the opportunity to have a go at him.

It wasn't that Ginny didn't want to play quidditch. She did, nearly more than anything, in fact. But there were far more important things that she needed to fix, like stopping this mess she'd started -- like saving Colin.

The problem was that she had hardly made any progress at all. Their best lead was that the surname of the girl who died fifty years ago was _ probably _Warren, but Ginny didn’t know what good that would do. It’s not like she could call the girl’s parents; from the sound of the articles, they probably knew as little as she did. Ada even suggested that their memories might have been altered; they probably thought their daughter died in a car accident. Just like the accident that had killed the Sheltons.

It was in moments like this that Ginny felt closest to despair. It was already March and they still hadn’t found anything really useful. Had Colin sacrificed himself for nothing? Or had he found something more important that they just hadn’t figured out yet? It was driving her mad; re-reading the same articles over and over, trying to find something she’d missed. Even Ada, ever the diligent student, had started to burn out as the long nights piled up.

Sighing, Ginny admitted to herself that it was time to visit Hagrid. She’d seen him a number of times since returning from holiday, but she hadn’t talked to him, not really. And she certainly hadn’t brought up her accusation again.

Ginny steeled herself; if she couldn’t face her shame for Colin's sake, what kind of friend was she? She’d tell Hagrid everything if she had to, whatever it took.

The students Ginny passed on the way to Hagrid’s hut set her on edge. There was something going on, she could sense it. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry... had there been another attack?

By the time she exited the castle there was no one in sight, and even the grounds were empty. It was odd… the closer she got to the hut, the colder she felt. Even the ground was showing signs of a chill, the leaves crackling with frost as she approached the door.

Ginny reached for the knocker, her arm feeling heavy and sluggish, but she was too slow; the door opened without her knock. She stared into terrifying darkness, down, down, down… Ginny stumbled backwards, crawling away from whatever was flowing out of Hagrid’s hut. The thing stared at her for a moment, a shrill cry building deep in her mind, and then it turned to leave.

Ginny felt as if a weight had been lifted from her chest, and she collapsed back onto her elbows, breathing deeply. A man followed the thing, keeping himself a moderate distance away, his wand drawn and his eyes trailed it’s movements. Dumbledore came next, in heated conversation with the Prime Minister, Cornelius Fudge. She remembered him from her visit to the Ministry a few months before, and in Dumbledore's fireplace after the second attack. Behind them followed a third wizard, this one hobbling on a false leg and his walking stick. He froze as he passed Ginny, turning just enough to see her out of the corner of his eye, though she lay nearly out of sight at the side of the hut. He gave her a brief nod before heading back toward the castle.

“Hagrid was in Diagon Alley at the time of the last attack, Cornelius. He is, as I’ve always said, innocent. I’m sure I can contact the shop owners that he visited and receive their testimonies in his favor,” insisted Dumbledore.

“Albus, my hands are tied, you know that! I can’t ignore the possibility. We don’t know how any of this works. Merlin, I’ve managed just a warning for now, haven’t I? I don’t think you understand the situation I’m in,” argued Fudge, his hands gesturing wildly. “If there’s another attack, he’s got to go to Azkaban until we can arrange a trial and perform an investigation.”

Fudge shook his head, removing his lime green bowler hat. “This is bad business, bad business indeed. My people have heard whispers that Scrimgeour wants to push for emergency powers, given the circumstances. He’s hungry for more, not like Crouch was, of course, but hungry all the same.”

The pair walked up to the castle, following the strange man with a limp. Eventually, Hagrid came to close his door, noticing Ginny lying on the ground outside.

“What're you doing over there, Ginny? Are you alright?” asked Hagrid, visibly shaken. The pitch of his voice fluttered a little as he spoke, and his eyes kept darting to where that _ thing _ had gone.

"What… What was that thing in your hut, Hagrid?" asked Ginny, struggling to stand on wobbly legs.

"They're dementors," he explained, shivering involuntary. "The prison guards of Azkaban. You come inside and have a seat now, I’ll make us some tea."

So, _ that _was why everyone spoke of the wizard's prison with fear. "It made me feel like… I was dying, or screaming or falling. That nothing would ever be good again."

Hagrid nodded, ushering her inside. He busied himself about the hut, avoiding making eye contact with her as he took things out, only to put them away again moments later. Ginny remembered the conversation she had overheard with Dumbledore and the Prime Minister, and understood why Hagrid was so nervous.

"It came for you, didn't it?" asked Ginny after a few moments. "Because of what happened last time. Because of what Tom did."

"Yeah, I reckon that’s it," said Hagrid simply, the fear evident in his expression. It made Ginny even more afraid to see him like this, all big and strong and quaking in his boots. It felt like everything in this new world was about to end.

"I'm sorry, Hagrid, I…"

"None of that now," interrupted Hagrid. "This has nothin' to do with you, you didn't mean what happened before, alright? Just promise me something."

"Of course," Ginny answered eagerly. "Anything."

"If they come and… well… when they come and take me, in the end, will you look after Fang? Take him for walks and the like? It will help a little, knowing he's not alone…"

Ginny nodded, doing her best to wrap Hagrid’s giant form in a hug. He held her tightly, his tears falling in heavy drops as he rocked back and forth.

"We'll take care of him," Ginny promised, trying to push away the fear that bubbled just below the surface. "We'll make sure he isn't alone."

* * *

It had been nearly a week since the dementor had visited the castle, but everyone was still on edge. Students moved furtively from class to class, keeping together in small packs, each group steering clear of the others. Even Fred and George were subdued; it had been weeks since they'd pulled any real pranks.

Ginny grabbed her notebook and quills and left the common room at a jog. She was late to meet Ada. Again. She'd been spending nearly every free moment in the library or walking the castle, hoping against hope that she would find _ something. _Every time she visited an empty hallway or passed the rows of quiet bookshelves, she felt more and more isolated. Maybe she was being reckless and stupid, but she was getting desperate. The other students all seemed to withdraw into the safest -- and most crowded -- parts of the castle once classes ended. Safety in numbers, she supposed.

"Oof!" exclaimed Ginny, falling back as she ran into someone coming around the corner. She looked up to see Harry staring down at her, his expression filled with malevolent glee.

"Better watch where you're going, Chosen One," he sneered, flexing the fingers of his wand hand. "Who knows what you might run into these days."

"What?" asked Ginny, staring at him in shock. What was up with him lately? She thought the quidditch match had been bad, but he'd become more and more withdrawn ever since. He'd been a little grouchy all term, she supposed, but she'd never felt uneasy around him. She'd never felt unsafe. Not like she did now.

"You heard me. Don't want the Heir catching you alone, do you? There might be a murder the next time. Little first year like you wouldn't even be an appetizer for the monster, I'll bet. At least the rest of us would be free of that awful red hair," he laughed, leaving her on the floor as he walked away.

Ginny instinctively grabbed for her ponytail, feeling the blood rise in her face. Hadn't he reassured her last term, when Selwyn had mocked the Weasley features as 'clear signs of inferiority'? He said that it was as pretty as Lily's… 

"Now look at you, red as a beet and twice as bland. Save us all the trouble and lock yourself in a closet, would you?"

"What the heck, Harry? Harry!" she shouted angrily. Who was he to talk to her like that? Had he just been messing with her head all year? Setting her up so he could tease and manipulate her? What was going on?

He didn't answer or look back, rounding a corner down the hall at a brisk walk. Ginny stared after him for a few moments before deciding to follow. There was something strange going on, something that tickled at her memory in a way that made her stomach churn and her hands shake.

When Ginny finally made it to the hallway around the corner, he was gone. There were too many possible routes he could've taken, and Ada was already waiting for her in the library. Maybe she could talk to him after dinner, but she wasn't sure if he'd tell her the truth. Harry was up to something.

Ginny tried to reassure herself that he'd just been in a bad mood, but nothing was adding up. The hairs on her arm had been standing on end ever since he'd spoken to her, and the sense of unease that had settled over her wasn't going away. There had been something about his voice, about the way he'd looked at her… how he hadn't said her name. His face marred by that wolfish grin. It just _ wasn't _ Harry, at least not the Harry she knew. Maybe she didn't really know him at all. 

She filed the memory away to be dealt with later and set off at a run.

* * *

"I need to take a break, I can't find any mention of the Riddle family in any of the archives. But they had to be purebloods, right? There's no way _You Know Who_was a muggle-born. Maybe there's a distant cousin or something in Hogwarts, but I doubt it. Besides, I've been re-reading the same line for ten minutes, if I spend any more time here, I'm going to throw myself into the lake," admitted Ada, shoving the book away from her. "Let's visit Colin in the hospital wing."

Ginny closed her own book: a compilation of court cases from after the First Wizarding War, mostly those accused of being Death Eaters. It was tough reading; half of it was couched in difficult legal terms and magical principles she didn't understand, and the testimonies were mostly detailed accounts of the horrific atrocities they’d committed. She skipped those parts, mostly. Much of it didn't seem all that helpful, but she was beginning to understand the type of fear that people had lived under before that fateful night. Before she became the 'Girl Who Lived'.

In the infirmary, Colin looked as he had every visit; frozen in time, the harsh lights casting his expression like a statue. It reminded Ginny of the figures in Madame Tussaud's wax museum she'd seen on a field trip three years ago, their faces uncannily close to life but odd enough to give pause. There was something like triumph in Colin's expression that kept Ginny’s attention. There was surprise there too, but she still believed he’d found something vital. Something that would change everything.

Ada sighed, idly stroking the hair on the top of Colin’s head. “I can't believe his film got destroyed. I mean, the rest of the camera was fine. I bet he took a picture of the heir, or the monster, and then they saw him. Then maybe the heir cursed the film, since Colin had gotten a picture. How could it hurt only the film and not the camera, though? And why did the girl die last time, but everyone else has been petrified?”

Ginny shrugged, they’d posed these questions to each other many times before. “It’s like Medusa just turned him to stone, his hands still holding the camera.”

“Well,” argued Ada, “if it really _ had _ been a gorgon, he’d _ actually _ be stone, not just petrified. But that’s a pretty good guess. I bet somebody would’ve seen it slinking about, though.”

“Wouldn’t someone be turned to stone if they saw it?” asked Ginny. 

“No, it has to look you in the eye,” she answered, pointing her fingers from Ginny’s eyes to her own.

Secretly, Ginny was surprised that gorgons were _ actually _ real things. Fred and George tried to trick her into believing crazy things all the time, but Ada usually told it straight. It seemed strange that all these creatures existed and no muggle _ ever _ saw them. Then she remembered the Warrens, and how the Ministry had used memory charms so they believed their daughter had died in a car accident. _ ‘Maybe the magical world really does spill into the muggle one, and they just patch it over with lies so no one ever knows,’ _ thought Ginny angrily. She wondered if the Sheltons really had died in a car accident, or if that was just a memory she’d been given to deceive her, too.

Voices echoed from down the hall, all of them raised and hurried as they approached the door. Madam Pomfrey shook her head in annoyance, but stood quickly when Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall ushered in a stretcher. Her brother Ron trailed close behind, his eyes red-rimmed and his expression ghastly. On the floating stretcher lay Hermione Granger.

As Hermione passed by, Ginny caught a glimpse of her expression in the small mirror she held in her hand, her eyes wide and startled. Ginny shivered, knowing her skin would be cold to the touch, her lungs motionless.

“I’ll have to notify the board,” stated Dumbledore to McGonagall. He stared at Hermione, his expression filled with pain. “And the Grangers, of course. But first, I must accompany Mr. Moody onto the grounds to collect Hagrid. I’m afraid they’ve already arrived.”

“Merlin...” breathed McGonagall, adjusting her glasses. “I’ll contact the Grangers, Albus. She’s part of my house after all. This is another mark on my conscience.”

“Be kind to yourself, Minerva,” soothed Dumbledore as they headed for the door.

Ginny watched them exit, unable to process the situation. Only Ron’s panicked breathing, close to tears, brought her back to the present. She reached out and held his hand, and Ron turned to hold her tightly. She wasn’t sure who cried first, but Ginny soon felt the whole of it all wash over her as she succumbed to her grief. She was just so tired. So frustrated and ashamed of all her failures and mistakes. She’d done this, she’d done _ all _ of this because she’d written in that stupid book.

After a few minutes, they pulled apart. Ginny felt winded, but better. Like she’d released all the pent up pain that had been weighing her down. “Where’s Harry?” she asked, scanning Ron’s face. “Does he know what happened?”

“I, uh, couldn’t find him,” said Ron, staring at his shoes. “He doesn’t know yet. I looked for him in the Great Hall and Gryffindor tower, but he wasn’t there.”

_ ‘Of course he wasn’t,’ _ whispered a thought in the back of her mind. Something that was dark and frightening, something she was too afraid to see.

“Maybe he’s…” started Ginny, but she didn’t know where to begin. She’d hardly seen much of him at all lately, now that quidditch was canceled and he was avoiding her. And when she saw him on her way to the library earlier, he’d left in a rush.

Ron shrugged, his expression mirroring how she felt. “Yeah, I don’t know either. I’ll keep looking,” he said, dragging his feet as he headed for the door.

Ginny brought her attention back to Colin and noticed something odd. There appeared to be a piece of crumpled paper tucked into the pocket of his shirt. Ginny reached in gingerly and lifted it out, smoothing it on the table beside the bed. Staring at the torn page, her heart nearly stopped. Looking back at her was a smiling and waving Ravenclaw third year named _ Myrtle Warren_; but Ginny already knew her by another name.

Moaning Myrtle.

“Are you serious?” asked Ada, her jaw dropping in shock. "_Moaning Myrtle _ was the girl that died the last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened? It’s been Myrtle this whole time?”

“I guess, I mean, it’s not like I ever asked her how she died. She’s so _ dreadful _ to talk to, so _ dramatic_,” Ginny complained. She felt like the gears in her brain were finally beginning to turn and click into place; this was it. This was the information they needed to figure it all out. If they just went to Myrtle, if they just asked what she saw…

“We’ve got to go see Myrtle now,” Ada said, grabbing Ginny’s hand. “What if she saw the monster when she died?"

They both bolted for the door, Ginny turning back to grab the yearbook page. Madam Pomfrey scolded her harshly, but she was in too much of a rush to care.

When they were about halfway to Myrtle's bathroom, Ginny realized something. "Oh no," she said, stopping in her tracks. "I forgot about Hagrid. They'll be coming for him with dementors, they think he's the Heir of Slytherin."

"Dementors? Are they taking him to Azkaban? Without a trial?"

"That's what Fudge said.” Ginny began to pace anxiously. She couldn’t abandon Hagrid, especially not after she’d promised to help. It would take her forever to exit the castle and run there, but if she could move fast enough, if she had her broom... “Maybe I can get there in time and stop them. Ada, I have to…" 

"Go. I'll talk to Myrtle and meet you at Hagrid's after, alright?" 

"Good luck," answered Ginny, sprinting for Gryffindor tower. "And stay safe!"

She grabbed her robes and broom, hoping it would be enough to get her there in time. She didn't like the prospect of seeing one of those dementors again, but she was willing to if it meant saving Hagrid from a prison full of those creatures.

Ginny hopped on her broom, bolting down the corridor at full tilt. She kept her hood pulled low in case anyone saw her. She was probably breaking dozens of rules, and there was definitely a curfew, but she couldn't stop now. There was too much at stake.

"Bad little first year, breaking curfew and on a broom to boot! Naughty naughty, I should report you, I should! It would be the noble thing to do…" 

"Oh shove it, Peeves," countered Ginny as she pulled her wand. "Don't get in my way."

"Ho ho ho!" he squealed, doing a somersault in the air. "Firsty is a fierce little bugger! Brimming with _ chaos_, are we? Go on and spread it, little she-beastie hahaha!" he shouted, zooming off and cackling with glee.

Ginny shrugged Peeves off and continued onward. She'd flown almost to the edge of the grounds when she realized that she still had her tape player in the pocket of her robes. _ 'Whatever,' _ she thought, _ 'I'll just have to be careful not to break it.' _

Ginny knew she was too late by the time she reached Hagrid's hut. There was no light coming from inside, and the chimney remained still and cold. She could even hear Fang's whimpering, mournful and morose as he cried in the dark. They had taken Hagrid to Azkaban.

* * *

Ginny was slouched in Hagrid's massive chair with Fang's head propped in her lap when Ada finally arrived. She must look wretched because Ada didn't even bother asking if she'd made it in time.

"He left a note," Ginny said simply, pointing to Hagrid's messy scrawl. "He says we should follow the spiders, that they'll know about the monster. I assume he means for us to go into the Forbidden Forest, to Aragog."

"Spiders? Ginny, I don't… " asked Ada hesitantly.

"You don't need to come, it's okay. This is my problem to solve…" 

"Enough of that," interrupted Ada. "You're a victim of this, too. Tom and whoever gave you the diary are the ones who did this."

Ginny favored her with a small smile, feeling the burden she placed on herself lessen ever so slightly. Maybe she wasn't fully to blame.

"Plus," Ada added with a smirk, "did you really think that I'd let you take all the credit?"

As they walked into the forest, accompanied by Fang, Ada recounted what she'd learned from Myrtle. It had taken a while to coax the ghost out, but once she asked Myrtle about her death, Ada couldn't get her to shut up about it. She detailed Myrtle’s encounter with Tom and the monster, which they had to admit _ did _kind of sound like a gorgon. Myrtle had died instantly, however, and hadn’t seen who or what had attacked. Except a large pair of eyes.

"I think the entrance to the Chamber might be near Myrtle's bathroom. She only heard Tom come in and speak in a weird voice, then she opened the door and boom, it was over. It's _ got _to be nearby," Ada finished. "Do you think we should go to Dumbledore when we get back?"

Ginny nodded, "Yeah, I think we'd better."

"Sorry I missed curfew, was busy finding the Chamber of Secrets, you know how things get. How's your night been?" Ada mimicked, giving Ginny a solemn expression. "Do you think we'll get house points for this?"

"If I'm involved, we're probably losing points. A hundred each, I'll bet."

"We'll be legends either way," laughed Ada, her eyes tracing the tree line. "Unless we die in the forest."

Ginny thought about Colin and Hermione, and about what she was beginning to suspect about Harry. She should've gone to Dumbledore a long time ago, but she was too afraid that she would get into trouble, and in the end, she'd made everything worse. Maybe she could at least learn _ something _ that could help. She owed it to everyone who had been hurt, Hagrid most of all.

“Do you think this is safe? Just following a swarm of spiders deep into a forest we're _ forbidden _ from entering?” asked Ada after they’d walked another ten minutes. "I'm not being chicken, I'm just wondering," she assured.

“Hagrid wouldn’t have sent kids somewhere _ really _ dangerous, right?” Ginny said, mostly to herself. She was hearing increasingly disturbing sounds from deeper into the forest, and the spiders seemed to be leading them right to it. Fang was the only one who appeared unaffected by the fading light, his tail wagging as he sniffed out tree stumps and bushes along the path. “Where do you think all these spiders are going?

“Nowhere I want to go,” admitted Ada. “But the aurors took Hagrid to Azkaban didn’t they? We have to find out the truth before anything happens.”

“What do you mean, ‘before anything happens’? What happens there?”

Ada stared at her for a moment before averting her eyes. “I just… he shouldn’t be there any longer than necessary. People say it changes you, even without the kiss.”

“The kiss?” Ginny remembered the dark shape of the dementor emerging from Hagrid’s hut, the mottled flesh and gaping mouth that made her skin crawl. She would do whatever it took to save Hagrid from such a fate, she decided grimly.

* * *

"How much further, do you think?" asked Ada, picking burrs off her socks. “I feel like we've been walking for hours."

As if to answer, Fang growled, stopping in his tracks. He let out a low 'woof'; a warning.

Ginny could see the canopy of spiderwebs crisscrossing overhead and the spiders who wove them skittering above in the dark. She thought that she’d be visiting one or two large spiders, not a swarm of them, from tiny orb weavers to massive creatures that made Ginny’s skin crawl with fear. They all moved in unison, keeping just at the corner of her sight, waiting with their glittering eyes.

A deep voice echoed from the center of a clearing up ahead, where nearly every surface was covered in a tapestry of webs. "Hello? Humans? I thought it might be Hagrid… it's been so long since he visited. If they are not Hagrid, I do not care…"

The spiders moved menacingly toward the girls, climbing down the trees around the clearing on thick strands of web. There were so many of them, but Ginny could see Aragog now; he was more massive than any of the others, though he looked ancient and white with many long years. He was blind.

"Wait!" shouted Ginny, "Hagrid sent us here, he's in trouble! We're friends of his!"

"Friends of Hagrid?" asked Aragog, his voice rising in question. The other spiders stopped but held their ground, and Ginny hoped that she was making the right decision. "Never before has Hagrid sent humans into our midst, exposing us..."

"Yes, but it's an emergency. Hagrid was taken to Azkaban, to the wizard prison. The Chamber of Secrets was opened again and they think that he did it. He needs our help," pressed Ginny.

"Speak not of the Chamber, friend of Hagrid, for it holds darkness and death. Our greatest enemy dwells there. I am sorry for Hagrid, but what can we do for him? Humans hate our kind…"

"Hagrid sacrificed everything for you, and I know he'd do it again if he had to!" shouted Ginny, anger rivaling the fear in her belly. "I've seen what he did for you, the way he helped you escape. He was kicked out of the school and had his wand broken for saving you!"

"Wands and schools mean little to my children, friend of Hagrid…"

"Lumos!" shouted Ginny, brightening her wand as she advanced toward the center of the circle. That seemed to unsettle the spiders, many of them skittering around in agitation. The clicking of their mandibles echoed in the clearing and Ginny felt sick.

"Hagrid wanted to be a wizard more than anything! He gave it up for you, and you sit here in the forest like cowards! He needs your help!"

"SILENCE!" bellowed Aragog, the sound shaking Ginny to the core. "You've said enough, friend of Hagrid. We cannot fight this ancient evil, we do not even speak its name! The beast that lies below fears nothing but the rooster's crow, that foul serpent, born of darkness, its massive coils crush and kill…"

"Oh!" said Ada from behind, surprised. "It's a basilisk then! Is that what you won't say? Basilisk?"

"DO NOT SPEAK THE NAME!" shouted Aragog, drawing into himself. The other spiders drew back, but more and more were beginning to lower themselves from the treeline. Fang continued to whimper as he looked around anxiously. They needed to get out of here. Now.

Ginny watched the trees, trying to find an opening. If they could get a head start, they'd have a chance. Maybe. "When it starts, grab Fang and run for the castle. I'll try to lead them away…"

"Ginny -- what are you doing? Lead them where? The forest is thick with spider webs, you won't get a hundred feet…" Ada pleaded, but Ginny shook her off. "It's suicide, get back here!"

She turned back to Aragog, trying to put some distance between her and Ada. "Thanks for your _ help_, whatever good it will do. We’ll just have to save Hagrid ourselves. Goodbye!" Ginny shouted, keeping her wand drawn as she started to mount her broom. Behind her, Ada grabbed Fang's collar and kept her wand outstretched.

"Goodbye? I suppose it is, in a way. But I cannot let you leave, friends of Hagrid. My children do not attack him on my command, but I cannot deny them fresh meat when it wanders so willingly into our midst. It was good of Hagrid to send us a final meal, before he was gone, too…"

"Run for it, Ada!" shouted Ginny, aiming a Jelly Legs Jinx into the pack of spiders above. A giant one fell, unable to perch on the branches, and landed with a sickening crunch on the ground. Blood pooled beneath its shattered carapace, and the clicking from the other spiders stopped, as if in shock. Ginny fired a _ reducto _at the ground below Aragog and watched as the massive spider fell into the hole that exploded below him.

“MURDERER!” shouted Aragog, two of his great forelimbs bent at odd angles from the fall. The spiders’ clicking boiled over into a frenzy, dozens swarming down the trunks of the massive trees in pursuit.

Ginny kept blasting Reductor and Impediment curses at random into the clearing, hoping it would be enough to draw their attention away from Ada and Fang. They were now running at a dead sprint, closely followed by three of the larger spiders. Ginny fired off another two spells, and Ada was able to topple a small tree behind her with a well placed _ reducto. _It would have to be enough, thought Ginny, kicking hard off the ground and heading for a hole in the treeline.

Ginny dodged and spun, doing her best to find openings or blast through when she couldn't. Her brain was running on all cylinders, the need to survive pushing back against the roiling fear that threatened to overwhelm her. She was going to make it, she could do this. She kept her head low and arm extended, her dwindling shield spell holding just long enough to protect her from the branches that whipped across her path.

Getting out of the clearing had been easier than she expected, but getting away from the spiders was proving to be much more challenging. She flew deeper into the forest, hoping to draw the spiders away from following Ada, but soon realized that the clearing was only the start of the spiders' territory. The deeper Ginny went, the darker the forest got as the webs thickened overhead.

The treelines were now covered in webs, a dangerous canopy that swayed with the breeze, causing Ginny to duck and swerve at the last second. She couldn't blast the webs with _ reducto, _ the gauzy whisps were too insubstantial for that spell, but she _ could _hit trees and branches with it. Ginny silently thanked the extra hours of quidditch practice this year, dodging fast moving bludgers and keeping track of all the other players. It wasn't long before her instincts kicked in and she started to pull away from the spiders. If only she could break above the treeline, then she'd be home free.

Seeing a patch of pitch black sky, Ginny leveled herself along the broom and shot forward. The wind whipped past her face as branches snapped in her wake; she was going to make it. But too late, Ginny saw the silken threads of yet another web, stretched in lazy arcs across the tallest branches. She tried to stop or turn but was moving too fast now, and the sticky threads snapped around her as she hit the web at full force.

Ginny felt the wind get knocked out of her, just managing to stay on her broom as she swiped at the tangling threads. There were too many, and the web began to sag under her weight, twigs and branches snapping as she struggled.

_ 'Shit shit shit!' _ thought Ginny, panicking as she tried to get free. _ 'They'll catch me for sure, and I'll be wrapped up like a fly waiting to be eaten. Why did it have to be spiders, why…' _

Then the largest branch supporting her snapped, sending Ginny tumbling in a ball of arms and legs. Her head smacked against a tree trunk heavily, and she fought to stay conscious as she fell. Another web kept her from landing hard on the forest floor, but she was even more hopelessly caught than before. She had put some good distance between her and the swarm of spiders, but Ginny could hear their excited clicking converging on her as they sensed her tangled in their webs. 

One of the larger spiders, likely one of Aragog's massive children, reached Ginny, it's pincers clacking menacingly. The spider surveyed her, trying to decide if she had more tricks up her sleeve before it began to wrap her tightly in webbing. The fear that bubbled below the surface finally broke forth, and a cold dread settled over Ginny.

This was it, she'd finally started something she couldn't finish. Honestly, she never considered that she might fail. That she might die, here in the forest, alone.

Ginny felt pain blossom in her arm, numbness slowly spreading from the spot that the spider had stung her. _ 'A paralyzing venom from an acromantula,' _ she remembered Slughorn saying as he'd listed off some of the rare ingredients from his supply. _ 'Very effective at keeping your patient still, especially when significant medical work is required. It's also used in some of the alternative potions to the draught of living death. Easier to brew, but much harder to find the ingredients.' _

_ 'Too bad I can't save some of the venom,' _ Ginny thought dully as the poison spread through her body. _ 'I bet Slughorn would've given me extra credit.' _

The spider was nearly finished with its work, and Ginny had a vague sense of the world turning over and over as she was spun. There was a warmth spreading across her limbs that whispered hints of sleep to her, hints she desperately wanted to follow. There was something in her mind that screamed and shouted and twisted, though… something loud that was afraid of the dark. Was she dying?

A long pole, maybe a spear, whizzed past Ginny, striking the spider with a heavy 'thunk' that shook her from where she hung. Black blood sprayed from the spider's wound, and shrill cries broke out from behind her. Ginny swung slowly, not particularly interested in anything but getting some rest. She was just so tired… 

"Do not go to sleep, Ginny Weasley, your night has just begun," said a voice above her. Ginny saw a shirtless man, his chest a silhouette against the moon as his hair waved freely in the breeze.

"Ehhhh…" Ginny tried, giving up on the words before she could say them. She could hardly even tell what was happening anymore; somehow she was spirited through this living nightmare, shaken by the simple truth of her own mortality. By the time she remembered what to say, she was already bounding away into the night, propelled by something below that she couldn't see. Ginny focused on the starlight and branches that passed overhead in a blur, their shapes blending together into a pattern of the sprawling night, and tried to stay awake.

* * *

Drifting softly, the breeze whispered through the open window carrying the scent of burning wood. Ginny stirred, her arm throbbing with a dull pain. _ 'Where am I?' _she wondered, taking in the details around her.

She was in a longhouse with a thatched roof, the walls plastered white and covered in illustrated scenes of centaurs hunting, dancing, and racing. Colorful cushions lined the walls, many embroidered with intricate geometric patterns and symbols that reminded Ginny of Hermione's Ancient Runes textbook.

At the entrance of the building, two centaurs stood guard, their long spears crossing the doorway and barring all passage. She should feel surprised to see centaurs, she thought, but was still too woozy for any of it to register properly. It had been a very strange day, after all.

"You've awoken, then," said a voice from behind her. Ginny turned, recognizing the speaker as the one who had thrown the spear. Then all the memories came rushing back -- the spiders converging on her, the sting, getting caught in the web… Ginny sat up quickly, the blood rushing to her head. How did she escape?

"Please, do not move more than necessary, your arm is weak from the poison. I know a little of that magic and have done what I can, though the others do not agree that it was prudent."

"Did you… did you save me?" asked Ginny, trying to piece the events of the night together. She remembered the terror of the chase, the threat that nipped at her heels. The realization that she failed… 

"Yes, the great spider Aragog's offspring pursued you, but you will not visit Lady Death tonight, child of Annwyn. You have a long journey ahead of you, and many other troubles in your path," answered the wild-haired centaur.

"Is that why there are guards at the door?" What had the centaur just called her? Child of something?

"No. Those guards are to prevent your leaving, at least until one stands in your stead as vouchsafe."

The centaur held his fist to his chest and nodded, indicating that he would do this. "There are those among us that believe these are only human troubles, not for our kind to intercede. But I disagree. I've read the heavens as much as any and I know I read it true. You have a greater part to play yet. You may call me Firenze."

"Thank you, Firenze. What do you mean about my part…?" Ginny asked, uncertain.

Firenze considered her for a few moments. "We've known of your coming for many years, Ginevra Weasley. The sky does not lie to us," he explained, pointing out a window behind Ginny. Stars spotted the sky, fading as the first hints of morning light peeked over the horizon. "But neither does she speak plainly, for she is not the sky our forefathers saw, and we must learn to speak as she does. Often we come to understand after the events have passed. We are but her children, and we grasp at the whispers of knowledge, looking for song."

"You knew I would come here? For years?"

Firenze smiled, something like fire behind his eyes as he looked skyward. "We knew that your time would come, and that the two worlds would shake when it did." Firenze turned to the illustration behind him, pointing at a blackened stone that rose from a hill, red lines spiraling down the sides. It looked almost like a doorway, the darkness sinking into the wall like a pit.

"Many years and many lives have passed between you and she who closed the gates of Annwyn, but her blood holds true in your veins. You are your mother's daughter, as she was hers, and one day you will hear the words of your ancestors as surely as I read the skies. Maybe you will even lead us beyond the gate, to Elphame. Home. It is a bold hope that I harbor, the others often fear that it clouds my judgment."

Firenze stared at her, his unblinking eyes boring holes into hers. "Our stories tell us that Elphame is a land of contradictions, but who can truly say when none alive have seen it? You'll find no representation of it on these walls. Maybe you know a little of that feeling, for it's been said that you have not seen your home, either. Even our elders know nothing but stories about the other side, for only the Mor-Rioghan can summon the bridge, and that has not happened in many lifetimes. But these are thoughts for another time, if not another life."

Ginny rubbed at her arm, feeling better as she began to move. She didn't understand what Firenze was talking about. Bridges? Other worlds? And what did any of this have to do with her mother's blood -- could it have something to do with the Prewetts? Maybe the poison was just making her groggy. She would have to ask Slughorn about it when she got the chance, if she ever did. Still, something gnawed at the back of her mind, something at the edge of her remembering that was of vital importance. If only she could remember…

"I'm hoping, Ginevra Weasley, that mother sky's words this night have meaning for you. Time is short. Dawn approaches and there is a great evil at the school. Do you know what hunts within those walls?"

"A basilisk," answered Ginny, Ada’s words returning to her mind. She didn't know what a basilisk was, but Ada had said it with such confidence that she had to believe it.

Firenze nodded, as if this revelation was no surprise to him. "The king of serpents, it is said. Your people have outlawed their creation, an old magic that welcomes chaos into this world from beyond the _ sidh_. Do you know what cry is fatal to this creature?"

Ginny thought hard, remembering Aragog's words. "A rooster?" she answered hesitantly.

Firenze nodded, ever solemn. "It is written in the heavens that you will spirit the rooster's song through time. These words hold no meaning for me, but it is arrogance to believe the heavens speak to me alone. Perhaps these words have meaning for you, child. When you are ready, you must go. I fear that you may have lingered too long."

Ginny nodded, stretching her arm experimentally. "I think I understand, at least about the rooster. Thank you for everything, Firenze. You saved my life."

"As you may save ours, Ginevra Weasley." Firenze gave her a deep bow, kneeling on one of his forelegs. "Do not speak of this place at the castle. There are those who would persecute my kind for our differences. I will be your vouchsafe for my people. If you return or send others in your stead, without our invitation, my life will be forfeit. Do you understand? You hold many fates in your hands, and I willingly add my own. Do not forget this."

"I won't forget, and I won't tell anyone about this place," answered Ginny, leaving the hut and climbing onto her broom. "I promise, Firenze."

And then she kicked off into the rising dawn. She was running out of time.

* * *

Aside from the train station, Ginny had never been to Hogsmeade village, but remembered passing farms and open fields on the Hogwarts Express. There had to be a rooster there somewhere. She pushed her broom hard, flying mostly on instinct now, simply allowing her body to react to the ebb and flow of the wind as it had hundreds of time in practice.

Ginny checked the pockets of her robes again, reassuring herself that the tape recorder was still there. She would have to record over the mixtape, but she had come to terms with that. What choice did she have?

Once she was positioned on a roof near a chicken coop, Ginny could only wait. She held the tape recorder firmly in her hands, her knuckles thawing a little from the flying so far in the predawn chill. There was only so much she could do to distract herself from the simple truth that had been whispering insistently in her gut.

Harry Potter had Tom Riddle's diary: it was the only explanation that made any sense. Under Tom's control, Harry was the Heir of Slytherin.

It was the first time that she'd admitted it to herself. The way he looked at her when she saw him last… the way it made her feel; it could _ only _ be Tom. Maybe she was imagining it, but she swore she'd seen just a moment of Tom Riddle's smirk when Harry had snapped at her yesterday morning.

She couldn't believe that was only yesterday morning. It felt like a whole year ago.

Ginny hated to admit how well it explained everything: Harry's increasingly hostile attitude, his fallout with the quidditch team, his absence after Hermione's attack. The way he’d leered at Ginny and mocked her for things she’d told him in confidence. Harry was better than that, she _ knew _ he was. _ ‘Or, he used to be,’ _ she thought with a grim realization. _ ‘If Tom hasn’t taken control for good.’ _

It was a terrifying thought, but Ginny had to admit that this had Tom’s fingerprints all over it. He couldn’t just release the basilisk, he had to use the person that would hurt Ginny the most. He couldn’t just kill her, he had to break her, too.

She thought of the conversation she had with Ron over holiday, about Harry writing letters late into the night. She'd bet anything that he'd been writing in the diary instead. Once she _ really _ looked at it, it was obvious. She'd missed all the signs, just because she was too afraid to accept the truth. She wouldn't let that happen again.

As the rays of sunlight crept over the horizon, Ginny waited for the rooster's crow to end. It was soon followed by the crowing of other roosters nearby, but she had recorded enough already. Her movements were slow and hesitant as she stuffed the tape recorder in her pocket, her hands nearly shaking from fatigue. She needed sleep.

The rooster's crow had forced her to sacrifice two songs, maybe three, but it would be worth it in the end. She hoped the small speaker on the tape recorder would be loud enough if she needed to use it. She also hoped that she wouldn't be too late.

Armed with her wand and protecting the tape recorder as best she could, Ginny kicked off the ground and headed back to the castle. She didn't know what she'd find, but things were moving quickly now, and Tom wouldn't wait long before his next move. If he hadn't struck again already.

* * *

“Merlin, Ginny! Where have you been?” cried Ada, jumping to her feet in a panic as Ginny entered the common room. It didn’t look as if she’d slept at all, and her eyes were red and raw. “I thought… after you didn’t come back last night… oh, Ginny,” she breathed, clinging to her in a fierce hug.

“I had some help, I’ll explain later. I’m so glad you made it out alright, those spiders…” Ginny shivered involuntarily, their clicking haunting her thoughts. She pushed the memory away; she couldn’t think about that now, she had to keep going. There would be time for fear when all of this was done.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ll ever sleep again from the nightmares. Most of them chased you, but it was a near thing. I dealt with a few, and Fang got one of the big ones. It bit him, but Madam Pomfrey said it wasn’t too serious.”

They stood in the common room, staring at each other, the flickering light of the dying fire giving way to the sun as it inched above the horizon. Ginny couldn’t remember ever being this tired, but there was a burning sensation inside her that kept her going. There was only one person who could fix this; it was time to go to Dumbledore.

"We have to go to the headmaster," Ginny said, setting her broom aside. "I think… I think Harry might be the one with the diary. The one that Tom's been…"

Ada reached out and grabbed her hand, and she felt calmer. "Alright then, let's go."

The castle was deadly quiet as they hurried through the halls. Ginny tried not to make any noise, but she couldn't decide if it was because she was afraid of running into the monster or getting caught by teachers. As if detention meant anything now. Maybe she was just afraid of disturbing the stillness that had settled over Hogwarts; it felt so peaceful in the soft morning light, so safe and inviting. Ginny wondered if it would ever truly feel that way again.

Once they reached the stone gargoyle, Ginny was relieved to find that the password hadn't been changed. She nearly sprinted up the stairs, shouting for Professor Dumbledore. Hopefully he wouldn't be angry; he had given her so many opportunities to tell the truth but she was always too afraid. Or too proud. Now it was probably too late, and she would have to live with that.

"Ms. Weasley, how unexpected. And Ms. Shafiq," answered Professor McGonagall, clearly as surprised to see them as they were to see her. "I'm glad you've been found, Ms. Weasley… is Mr. Moody with you? It's very urgent."

"Moody, Professor?" asked Ginny, confused.

"No, she made it back on her own," answered Ada. Turning to Ginny, she explained, "Professor Dumbledore sent the auror to find you, when you didn't come back from the forest. I thought something had happened…"

"That's a shame," mumbled Professor McGonagall, already returning to the paperwork she'd been doing. "We could really use his help right now. Alright then, off to bed with you. I'll need to send a patronus to contact him out in the forest. I hope he hasn't run into any trouble. It's a miracle that you girls made it out alive, from what Ms. Shafiq has told me."

"But Professor, it's urgent, I need to speak with Professor Dumbledore…" 

"There are many who wish to speak with him," answered Professor McGonagall. "Myself included. We'll have to make due, however. Pursuant to Ministry decree, Professor Dumbledore has been placed on administrative leave and been removed from his formal posting at Hogwarts, pending an investigation into the _ 'negligence' _ that allowed these attacks. Why they think now is the right time to do this, in the middle of a crisis, is beyond me… "

"Dumbledore has been sacked?" asked Ginny, nearly shouting in surprise. She looked around the room, feeling completely lost. Fawkes the phoenix, returned to his beautiful plumage, stared at her solemnly as if in confirmation. "But… but this is important! It's about the Chamber, I… "

McGonagall put down her quill and removed her glasses, rubbing listlessly at her eyes. "That's quite enough, Ms. Weasley. I appreciate your concerns but I've already sent you off to bed. Surely you can follow this one simple request, won't you?"

"It's already morning, Professor," answered Ada, looking about as tired as Ginny felt.

"Is it?" McGonagall took a long look at the clock mounted across the room, staring at it in disbelief. "Merlin, I'm running out of time. I'm sorry, girls, this has been a _ very _trying twenty-four hours. Once the Ministry took the attacks up for debate, reporters and parents have been hounding us with owls. The Grangers will be arriving shortly to see their daughter, and our auror is somewhere in the Forbidden Forest looking for you. Until he returns, Gilderoy is leading the investigation, or so he keeps telling us. He's been saying for months that he knew where the entrance was, the pompous fool. At least that will keep him out of my hair for a while."

McGonagall pulled out her wand and conjured a floating mirror, taking care to fix any strands of hair that had managed to fall out of place. Her eyes looked tired, and Ginny felt sorry for the stress that she'd caused. "I suppose it wouldn't matter if Mr. Moody was here," McGonagall continued, mostly to herself. "He's combed the castle a dozen times with his sneakoscopes and other contraptions and still hasn't found anything. Not that anyone else has fared better over the last fifty years. Merlin, and I still need to contact the parents of the boy that was taken…"

"Taken?" asked Ginny. Was Tom beginning to escalate the attacks beyond petrification?

"Why yes, Mr. Potter hasn't been seen since yesterday morning, and that dreadful message, _ ‘his skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever'_…" McGonagall stopped, remembering who she was speaking to. "Oh, no, I'm so sorry, dear. I didn't mean for you to find out this way. The message was found last night, outside the…"

Ginny tuned out the rest of whatever Professor McGonagall was saying, her mind racing to process what she'd just learned. Tom was making his final move, preparing his endgame. And he’d taken Harry into the Chamber of Secrets. How could she face the Potters, knowing the role she played in all of this?

How could she live with herself, knowing what she'd done?

She was going into the Chamber to bring Harry back, no matter the odds.


	11. (I Just) Died In Your Arms

##  **(I Just) Died In Your Arms**

_ I keep looking for something I can't get _

_ Broken hearts lie all around me _

_ And I don't see an easy way to get out of this _

_ Her diary, it sits by the bedside table _

_ The curtains are closed, the cats in the cradle _

_ Who would've thought that a boy like me could come to this _

_ Oh I, I just died in your arms tonight _

_ It must've been something you said _

_ I just died in your arms tonight _

_ Oh I, I just died in your arms tonight _

_ It must've been some kind of kiss _

_ I should've walked away, I should've walked away _

  * __Cutting Crew, 1986__

Follow along to [ Ginny’s Mixtape ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3kDLc9BK6sFjDCQ9lpZNyv)

* * *

"Ginny, Ginny!" repeated Ada, nudging her. "We've got to go to Lockhart. I know he's an idiot, but if he's going to try to go into the Chamber…"

Ginny frowned. “I doubt Lockhart would _ actually _ stick his neck out to help. He definitely doesn’t know about the Chamber. He’s probably at a book signing in Hogsmeade.”

“I don’t know,” shrugged Ada. “What’s the harm in trying? He wrote all those books, he must be good at _ something_. We owe it to Colin to try.”

“Fine,” Ginny grumbled, shoving her hands deep into her pockets. As if she was just going to give up.

She was silent on the walk to Lockhart’s classroom, feeling rebellious and angry. And wronged. Everything was falling apart; everything she’d been given was crashing and burning all around her. Or maybe everything she touched turned rotten. Ginny wanted to scream and pull her hair and kick the wall, but she still had a purpose. A drive to fix this mess: to save Harry. Hadn’t he been hurt more than anyone, in the end?

As Ginny approached Lockhart’s office, she could hear raised voices from the inside. She signaled to Ada and slipped through the open door, hoping that whatever was happening, she’d at least catch them off guard. Inside, her brother Ron stood across from the professor, shouting at him as Lockhart stuffed books into a trunk.

“You’ve been boasting about your Order of Merlin all year!” shouted Ron, trying to grab a book from Lockhart. “What about all those great things in your books? Or do you just do photo shoots with _ Witch Weekly _ now?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” snapped Lockhart, his signature curls falling out of place. “Don’t you get it, you stupid boy? I don’t know where the Chamber is, and I didn’t do any of those things in the books. I _ represent _ the heroics of those who did; the story wouldn't be worth half of what it is if those who _ really _ fought those monsters told it. They have no style.”

Ron’s face dropped, speechless with the realization. “So… so you really are just a load of rubbish, then. You’re even more useless than I’d thought!” Ron grabbed a trophy off Lockhart’s desk and chucked it at the wall, the glass figurine shattering into pieces.

“Oh, I’m certainly not _ useless_. How do you think I got those witches and wizards to give me their story? How do you think I have credible _ witnesses _ to all of my heroic deeds?” he asked, advancing on Ron. Lockhart began to draw his wand, a sickening smile widening across his face. “I’m _ quite _ talented with memory charms, in fact. Just a quick spell, and your mind is mine for the taking. I’d ask you if you have any final words, but I’d rather spare myself the torture. Goodbye, Ron Weasley.”

Lockhart raised his wand, and Ginny sprung into action, remembering the lessons that Melody had given her. She kept her motions fast and efficient, letting her _ ‘expelliarmus’ _ hitting Lockhart before he was able to finish his memory charm. The wand flew out of his hand, clattering against the blackboard before it toppled out of view.

Lockhart spun, his face red with rage. _ “Imbeciles!” _ he screeched, diving for the wand, but Ada was too quick for him. She snagged it with a well-placed _ accio_, slipping the wand into her robe pocket. “Alright then, you’re coming into the Chamber with us. Let's see how useful that award winning smile is against the monster."

“You can give me that wand back and we can forget all of this nonsense, or you can make the world's most dangerous enemy, Gilderoy Lockhart." He swept his hair to the side, smiling as if he were at a photo shoot.

“Keep talking and you'll get a stinging hex in your face, you fraud!” Ada shouted back, pointing her wand at his eyes. Lockhart backed down but watched them warily, itching to pounce at a moment’s notice.

"What do you want from me? Your friend is dead or will be soon. They say it's the first few hours after the kidnapping that are most important, you know. It's already too late."

"You can come with us now, or I'm going straight to Professor McGonagall and telling her everything you just said. They'll chuck you in Azkaban and throw away the key," Ron said. Then he threw another of Lockhart's awards against the wall for good measure, the .

"Azkaban can't be good for your brand, Gilderoy," said Ginny. She thought that she would be angrier at Lockhart for his betrayal, but inside she felt calm, like the eye of a storm. Calm like the distant tidal wave out at sea, dangerous and powerful and waiting to tower over the shore. "At least you'll be useful as bait if we run into the basilisk."

Lockhart stilled, gasping as he clasped his face in his hands. "You _ wouldn't_," he admonished. "Where would you even get a basilisk? You're all quite mad; my only consolation is that none of you can do enough magic to harm me."

"Try something and you'll find out," challenged Ada, her eyes dark and violent.

"Come on, to the second floor bathroom. We're running out of time," Ginny scolded, starting for the door. Three students and a useless professor against Tom Riddle and the serpent of Slytherin; it would have to be enough.

* * *

"What are we doing here?" complained Lockhart, pouting. “At least let me wait outside. It is a _ girls _ bathroom. I can get in a lot of trouble for this sort of thing, as a grown man and a professor. I'm being deadly serious. Rita would throw me on the pyre in some trashy unauthorized tell-all and my career would be over.”

Ginny wanted to kick his shins just to get him to be quiet, but she needed to focus on finding the entrance. It _ had _ to be here… where else could it be? "Ada, do you remember which stall was Myrtle's? Maybe we can start there?"

"I'm pretty sure it's that one," she answered, gesturing to one with a puddle of water around the toilet. “If only Myrtle were here, she’s probably got it figured out.”

“Moaning Myrtle?” laughed Ron. “I bet no one’s ever said that before, ‘if only Myrtle were here’. She’d just blubber and splash us all with toilet water!”

At his words Myrtle shot straight out of the toilet, showering Ron with a cascade of water. Ginny managed to step out of the way in time, but Lockhart wasn’t so lucky.

“No one wants poor blubbering, _ moaning_, Myrtle!” she shouted angrily. “It’s a good thing she’s dead! Better her than someone important!”

“Oi! What gives?” shouted Ron. “It's not like I’ve ever done anything to you!”

Myrtle looked like she was about to throw a really extraordinary fit, but Ada stepped in, raising placating hands. “Myrtle, we’re sorry to interrupt like this. I thought maybe you could help us. We’re trying to find if there is anything_ odd _ about this bathroom, anything that could lead to a hidden entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. Is there anything you can think of?”

Myrtle calmed down, looking thoughtful. “Well… that sink over there has never worked,” she answered, pointing at the central column ringed with sinks.

Ginny hurried over, turning the knobs to confirm. Nothing. Even more promising was the small snake carved into the plumbing below the sink.

“Here!” shouted Ginny, crouching to get a better look. “See the little snake? That’s as good as a welcome mat. Do you think there’s a button or lever hidden around here?”

“Whatever for?” asked Lockhart, unimpressed. “Can we just give up? I’d rather like to be getting home. It's very difficult to get a proper night's sleep if I've had too much stress late in the day.”

“There’s no hole for a key…” muttered Ginny, looking for anything else out of place. “There has to be some way to… open…” And then she realized what it had to be. Salazar Slytherin, who believed that power came from blood purity, wouldn’t rely on some _ muggle _ invention to seal his secret chamber. No, the key would be magical, and something that he and his descendants could access but others couldn’t.

Ginny stared at the little snake, imagining the shimmering scales and undulating curves of the snakes she’d seen in a nature documentary in kindergarten. It had given her nightmares then, but now it was her only hope.

Imagining the snake alive, she whispered, “_Open the chamber.” _

“Woah, wicked…” said Ron in awe, watching as the sink began to lower into the floor, a passageway opening in the center of the room. “Is that…?”

“_The Chamber of Secrets… _” whispered Ada, shining the light from her wand down the tunnel. It vanished into darkness somewhere deep below, the sounds of running water echoing from the distant bottom.

“Bloody hell.” Ron laughed, prodding Lockhart toward the Chamber with his wand. “Maybe you are the Heir of Slytherin, Ginny.”

“I’m not Slytherin’s heir,” she countered. “I’m his bane.”

* * *

“_Geroff!_” shouted Ron from below as Ginny slid out of the tunnel. She splashed heavily into a pool of water deep below the school. It had been an incredibly long fall, and Ginny felt disoriented from the speed of it. Ginny remembered to dive to the side, narrowly avoiding Ada as she came down the tunnel at full speed behind Ginny.

Across the room, Ron and Lockhart were fighting over something. Ginny pulled her wand as Lockhart managed to break free, Ron’s wand clutched tightly in his fist.

“Ha! Thought you could pull the wool over on ol’ Gilderoy, did you? This will teach you to underestimate...”

Ginny and Ada each fired a _ reducto_, their spells combining as they blasted into the wall of the tunnel behind Lockhart. The explosion threw him into the center of the room, an audible _ snap _ echoing across the stone floor as Lockhart landed on his wand hand. The ground of the passage shook a little, cracks bursting along the walls and converging toward the center.

They all screamed, scattering away from the widening crack as huge chunks of rock began to fall from the ceiling. In a few seconds, the entire passageway was cut off. Ginny turned to check if everyone was alright, but she was the only one on this side of the fallen rocks. Her tape player appeared to be undamaged, at least, but she was alone.

“You alright?” came Ada’s muffled cry from the other side, her voice tinged with panic. Ginny made her way to the rubble and tried to pick through it, but it was no use. She was buried too far back.

“I’m fine, but I’m trapped over here. It’s going to take me forever to move all these rocks, even with magic. Is Ron alright, too?” Ginny called back.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” shouted Ron, “but Lockhart’s… well… I think he blasted himself with the broken wand, he’s acting all _ strange_.”

“Let’s start clearing the rubble and meet in the middle, alright?” Ada offered. “We don’t have much time.”

She was right, Ginny realized. _ ‘It was always going to end this way, me alone against Tom,’ _ Ginny thought. She took a deep breath and brushed the hair out of her face. Then she checked her tape player, making sure it was rewound and the volume was all the way up. It was time to go.

“You’re right, we don’t have time. I’m going in alone.”

“Ginny, no!” yelled Ada. “You can’t, you’re just...”

“I’m all we’ve got. Do me a favor, would you?”

“Fine. As if I had a choice,” grumbled Ada.

“Open a hole for me, for when I come back?”

* * *

Ginny clenched her fists, trying to will herself not to shiver in the cold, underground chamber. The smells of stagnant dampness permeated the long passage, tickling at her noise unpleasantly. The echoing emptiness reminded her of images she had seen of the shipwrecked _Titanic_ on the news, except molds and fungi replaced the thick corals and rust. 

As she walked through the ankle deep water, she wondered what she was going to do. Maybe blast more rocks like she did with Lockhart? She wasn’t sure how big a basilisk was, but Firenze had called it the ‘king of serpents’. It had to be big, maybe like a python or a green anaconda. Maybe she could just find the diary and blast that, but it probably wouldn’t work. And then there would still be the snake…

At the end of the corridor, Ginny came to a shear wall of stone stretching above her. Two large snakes were coiled across each other in an incredible mural carved into the stone, a thin line splitting down the middle the only indication that she faced a door.

The door to the Chamber of Secrets.

Ginny stared at it, imagining the snakes’ undulating motion once again. _ "Open," _she whispered, the phrase coming to her lips more naturally than before. There was an audible click and the doors swung inward on silent hinges, vanishing into the mist as if falling out of sight. She half expected to hear a distance crash somewhere below, but was met with silence and a path into darkness. There was only one direction to go.

Flames burst from the columns that lined the stone walkway, green and menacing and hungry. Ginny shivered, but this time it wasn't from the cold. Tom would know she was here. Tom who tricked and betrayed her; who reached inside her mind and made her do what he wanted. Fear bloomed inside her gut and worked its way into her bones, threatening to consume her. Ginny forced herself to walk forward, step by step, and face the terror that plagued her thoughts.

_ 'It doesn’t matter'_, she assured herself, '_Tom always knew I would come. He used Harry as the bait, after all. It was always about me.' _

Finally, Ginny reached the center of the Chamber, a great domed expanse ringed with ornate columns and more tunnels that led into darkness. In the center of the room was a statue of Salazar Slytherin flanked by two expertly carved snakes, their heads rising to serve as his armrests. 

Below the statue lay Harry's body, a heap piled before the diary. He looked so much smaller than Ginny was used to, so close to drifting away forever. The ghostly image of Tom stood over him and smiled at Ginny, his grin menacing.

"I've been waiting for you, Ginny. And you've almost come too late. Poor Harry here isn't looking well."

"What are you doing to him?" Ginny snapped, pointing her wand at his chest.

"How rude. Don't they teach proper etiquette at Hogwarts these days? Pointing a wand at an unarmed opponent is bad form, Ginny," he teased, crouching low to swipe a bit of hair from Harry's face. His fingers passed through him, unaffected, though the hair fluttered as if caught in a breeze.

"It won't be long now," he continued, examining his fingers, long and delicate. "And then you'll see who you're _ really _ dealing with."

"Oh I've already got you figured out, Tom," said Ginny through gritted teeth. "You're so sure of yourself, but all you've done is lose. You couldn't kill me as a baby, and then you got tricked by Dumbledore and thrown in Azkaban. Now you're just a face on the back of a prisoner's head!"

If her words had gotten to Tom, he didn't show it. He paced slowly, grinning as he stared at the floor. "Dumbledore always did fancy himself my equal… but he's an old fool. Where is he now? Gone, chased from the school by the mere memory of who I become. And you, his _ champion_, shaking with fear before me. Dumbledore isn't half the wizard I was when I was _ sixteen. _ Did you really come here and think I hadn't planned for this?"

Ginny tried to hold her wand steady, wishing Dumbledore were here to help… wishing _ anyone _ was here to help. Tom was simply stalling, watching her twist and squirm for the enjoyment of it. She wondered if he could call the snake, or if he needed Harry to do it still. He didn't look whole yet, but he had also said, _ 'it won't be long now'_. Ginny needed to act fast, she just didn't know what to do.

The air above them seemed to crystallize with heat for a moment, warping with a _ crack _ and burst of flame. Fawkes gave a piercing cry, flying in an arc that rounded the great dome and dropping something at Ginny's feet. She kept her eyes on Tom as she bent over and grabbed it.

"The Sorting Hat?" she wondered aloud. Fawkes had appeared out of nowhere and brought her… the _ sorting hat_? How would that help against Tom, against a basilisk? 

"This keeps getting better!" Tom laughed with maniacal glee. "Dumbledore sends his champion a bird and a hat. Against the Serpent of Slytherin and the greatest wizard that has ever lived? _ I _warned you that he was a kook months ago, do you remember Ginny? Shall we begin, then?"

Ginny shoved the hat on her head, hoping against hope that it would teleport her somewhere or make Dumbledore appear… anything. The familiar darkness welcomed her, but the hat remained silent. She could still hear Tom's whispers through the thick fabric; he spoke in parseltongue, coaxing the serpent from its lair beneath.

_ "Come, Serpent of Slytherin, come and feast on the flesh of the fallen. It is time to bring wrath and ruin. Come!" _

Ginny could hear the excitement in Tom’s voice, and it made her insides churn with fear. A small part of her welcomed the end; at least she wouldn’t have to face her failures if she died here, next to Harry. At least she wouldn’t see the world that Tom would build once he got free.

_ 'Someone, anyone, I need your help!' _ thought Ginny desperately to the hat. She couldn’t give up now, not when she was here at the very end. Tom _ had _ to be stopped, and right now there was no one else to do it. There was a swirling in the mist before her, and a tall figure strode forth, his thick, red beard glowing with a soft light. He smiled wide at her, reaching a strong hand out to grasp her shoulder. Ginny remembered him from her sorting; it was Godric Gryffindor.

_ 'You've called?' _ he asked, the timbre of his voice weaving through many tones until it was a chorus of sound. _ 'I remember your face, young child. What is it that you fear?' _

_ 'The snake, Slytherin's basilisk!' _Ginny answered, wondering if it was bearing down on her even now. Did time pass the same here, in the hat, as on the outside?

There was a low sound, just at the edge of her hearing, like a great weight being dragged across stone and through water. She was running out of time.

_ 'A basilisk…' _ the voice pondered, _ 'you'll need a fang of your own then. An ancient blade for an ancient evil.' _

_ ‘A sword?’ _ asked Ginny, staring at the scabbard in his hands. _ ‘Isn’t there anything magical I can use?’ _

Gryffindor drew the great blade and presented it to her, chuckling. _ ‘Not many can claim to have rejected goblin-wrought silver. Trust me, child, it will kill as cleanly as any hex or amulet. Have courage, and strike true!’ _

Ginny grasped the blade tightly in her hand, somehow pulling it from the depths of the hat. Had she taken the hat off...? The blade felt light in her grasp, magically suited to her size and strength. Behind her, Tom was watching, a curious expression on his face as he stared at the sword. 

'_Does he know something about the blade?' _she wondered, but she had no time to speculate. A rumble sounded from one of the tunnels nearby, and Ginny turned and ran. The snake had come.

Ginny ducked into side passages, trying to keep her steps light and quiet. She did her best to keep near the Chamber, there was no telling where these tunnels lead. Could snakes smell? Could the basilisk sense her? It must’ve lived in these tunnels for _ hundreds _ of years, and any moment now Ginny could find herself cornered at a dead end. She couldn’t keep this up, either the snake would find her or Riddle would finish killing Harry and come for her himself; Ginny needed to choose her battlefield and make her stand.

If she could get close enough to play the tape, maybe it would be strong enough to hurt or kill the basilisk, but it was going to be difficult getting within such a short distance. If only she could find a way to maximize the volume and to trap the basilisk where it was loudest.

A loud hissing noise echoed across the Chamber, punctuated by Fawkes’s cries. Ginny could catch the words of anger and rage in the hiss, the annoyance that the phoenix was causing the basilisk as it circled and darted and dove.

_ ‘I’m not alone,’ _ Ginny realized, surprised. Fawkes was fighting bravely, bringing her a sword and standing by her side. He probably could have disappeared just as easily, leaving the hat and retreating to safety, but instead he stayed.

"Oh Ginny!" called Tom playfully, his voice echoing in the Chamber. "You're missing all the fun!" 

_ ...Ginny, you’re missing all the fun… _

_ ...Go listen... _

And Ginny remembered.

* * *

_ One Year Ago _

“Come on Ginny, you’re missing all the fun! Go listen over at the opposite wall!” hissed Amber, waving to her from the raised bench that ringed the chamber. She put her ear back to the wall and giggled.

Ginny sighed, walking around the edge of the domed Whispering Gallery of St. Paul’s Cathedral. She hated going on field trips to all these old churches; they were always the same. An hour long tour where they talked about old dead men who paid for crusades or had churches built that were bigger and prettier than the churches in other cities. She’d much rather go to a zoo or a football match.

On the other side of the Cathedral, Ginny pressed her ear to the wall, mostly to get Amber to quit going on about it. Just as she’d suspected, there was nothing special about it, the sounds were just… 

“Ginny, can you hear me?” came Amber’s voice, clear and sharp despite the vast distance. Ginny nearly stumbled back from the bench in shock. How was this possible?

“Yes! Amber? Hello, can you hear me?” she whispered back, the other girl’s excitement becoming infectious.

“Yes!” she giggled, clapping enthusiastically. The sound echoed across the dome and people all across the gallery looked around for the source of the sound.

_ ‘There must be something with the curved ceiling,’ _ thought Ginny, struggling to recall the tour guide's explanation from only minutes before. _ ‘Maybe it’s like a ramp for sound, or a natural speaker or something.’ _

Ginny had a thought, excitedly leaning back into the wall. “Amber, I’ve got an idea, dare me to do it?”

“Of course! Do I even need to?”

Ginny leaned back, scanning the room quickly to see if any teachers were nearby. “Wanker!” she shouted into the curve of the wall, the sound bouncing around the room as the echo built into a chatter of shouts. The students all began to laugh, adding their noise to the mix until the whole gallery seemed to vibrate with sound. Ginny felt her cheeks flush as a smile crept across her face. She wanted to be liked, not just that kid that hovered on the fringe, never really at the heart of whatever was happening. The orphan. The foster kid. Maybe this school would be different for her, and she could make real friends. She saw Amber waving from across the gallery and smiled. Maybe she already had.

“Miss Virginia Shelton, that will be a detention, and you’ll be lucky if that’s all!” called her teacher’s shrill voice from above the din. “Never in my career have I been more embarrassed by the behavior of a student!”

Ms. Coxley finally strode around to Ginny, grabbing her wrist firmly as she escorted her from the room. One of the cathedral attendants flanked Ginny's other side, whispering about how rude words don’t belong in a church and the noise disturbs all the other patrons, _ paying _ patrons with their significant donations.

“Oh don’t bother telling _ her _ that,” snipped Ms. Coxley. “You know these _ orphan _ types. Never been shown a strong hand, hooligans the lot of them…”

* * *

That was it! Ginny could use the domed walls to amplify the sound of her tape; it might just be loud enough to really do something. She kept her eyes on her feet and followed the sound back toward the main Chamber, hoping she could make it there before the snake got Fawkes. Or found her.

She rounded the final corner hard, nearly slipping in the water that covered the floor. Fawkes was still darting overhead as the basilisk hissed loudly, but Ginny couldn’t risk watching for fear of meeting eyes with the serpent. She quickly fished in her pocket, tapping her tape player with her wand and whispering, _ sonorous,_ like Professor Flitwick had taught her. She really hoped that this plan would work, otherwise what spell would she even use against a snake like _ that_?

Holding the magically amplified tape player to the curve of the wall, Ginny mashed the play button and closed her eyes. There was a terrifying moment as the first few seconds of the tape played in silence before the recording began. She could feel the eyes of the snake on her, the satisfied sound that resonated in it’s _ hiss _ as it found her. And then the rooster’s crow began to play.

Ginny held the tape player high, her arm nearly shaking from fatigue. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept. She couldn’t even remember the last time she wasn’t afraid. But in that moment, as the sound of the rooster’s crow built and echoed across the stone, Ginny finally felt at peace. She breathed deeply, taking courage from the solid feel of the blade in her hand; she _ could _ do this… her plan _ could _ work. It had to.

There was a spitting sound and dark blood splattered across ground, warm droplets startling Ginny as they fell on her skin. _ ‘Oh no!’ _ she thought, _ ‘It must’ve gotten Fawkes!’ _ She turned without thinking, looking up as Fawkes darted down and pierced the snake's second eye, the blood spraying across the opposite wall of the Chamber.

“No!” screamed Tom, his face red with fury. He squeezed his hands anxiously, staring at Harry’s body as he did. Ginny could tell he was itching to hold a wand and fight, to kill her for himself.

The serpent lashed out, whipping its head toward Ginny as it lunged. She silently thanked all the extra hours of dodging bludgers at quidditch practice, diving out of the way just in time. The snake’s massive head rammed the pillar, the stone cracking in an explosion of dust and shrapnel.

Ginny yelped as she tried to back away from the falling stones, but parts of the ceiling began to crack as the support gave way, and she couldn’t move fast enough. A large chunk of the column toppled down, smashing her hand and wrist. She felt her bones crack as the tape recorder shattered in her hand, the weight of the stone pinning her to the ground. Ginny howled in pain, the sound of her anguish added to the echo.

To her left, the basilisk wasn’t faring much better. Blood pooled in it’s eye sockets, dark lines running like tears across its scales. Two of its fangs had been broken in its lunge, one still hanging on at an odd angle as it tried to work its fractured jaw.

There was a sickly green liquid oozing from the broken fang, and as the snake tried to pull its head away from the fallen stone, droplets of the ooze flecked onto the open pages of the diary. Tom flinched as the poison scorched a small blot on the page, and Ginny finally knew what she needed to do.

Ginny dropped the sword, trying to push the pain behind her as she worked. After a moment she was able to fish her wand from her robes and point it at the stone still pinning her down. She couldn’t get it to budge with her _ wingardium leviosa_, but she was certain she could blast it away. Turning to shield herself from the spell as best she could, Ginny pointed her wand at the rock and blasted it with everything she had. Pain seared along her arm as the stone was reduced to dust above her, and the left side of her face stung like a cat had scratched it raw, but it was a small price to pay to be alive.

Ginny grabbed the sword and scrambled to her feet, stumbling as the Chamber shook from the snake’s great heaves. She clambered over the fallen stone, managing to get above the head of the snake as it lay pinned below her. Holding her breath, Ginny stabbed down as hard as she could with her good hand, putting her whole weight into the thrust. She leaned harder and harder, doing her best to ignore the way the hilt dug into her ribcage and the terrifying sound that the snake was making below her. Finally, it no longer moved, and Ginny felt her breath hitch with relief, tears welling behind her eyes.

“You stupid bitch!” shouted Tom, furious. “You’ve ruined his legacy with your _ muggle garbage_! It won’t matter for you, of course. I’ll be killing you the moment I’m free, and you’re out of time. It won’t be swift, for the torment you’ve caused me. You’ll be begging for the mercy long before I’m satisfied.”

Ginny shuddered at the venom in his words, collapsing on the head of the snake. She stumbled across the rubble, the sharp stones cutting her hand and knees as she did her best to ignore it. The tears still flowed freely as she went, but she could still see the broken fang well enough.

It was light in her hand once she picked it up, the hollow shape over a foot long and razor-sharp. Ginny raised it above her, letting all the anger and shame and fear flow into her. She felt it all, screaming with every ounce of strength she had as she plunged the fang into Tom’s diary, a dagger to his heart.

“You’ll kill him too! He’s as good as dead anyway!” Tom snarled as he lunged for her in a panic. He reached out, his eyes alight with furious anger, but his hand passed through her, dissolving like mist in the morning light. Ginny watched the agony on his face as the diary gushed ink as thick as tar, bubbling and oozing as it crept hungrily across the floor. She watched until Tom Riddle was no more, not even the memory of a confident boy who thirsted for blood, the pages of the diary charring with the caustic poison.

In the blink of an eye, Ginny saw it; the murder of Myrtle Warren all those years ago as she opened the door to her bathroom stall. She felt Tom’s joy wilt and vanish, felt the tight grip of his hate over Myrtle finally release. It was over. She was free. 

* * *

Ginny struggled to sit up. Even her good arm had begun to ache with a dull throb. She managed to slide the diary away with her foot, leaving the fang buried deep in its pages. Beside her, Harry wasn’t looking very good. Ginny was worried that Tom had been right, that Harry had lost too much of whatever Tom had been draining… that despite it all, he’d die before she could save him.

Harry’s face was deathly pale. Thin red lines traced across his cheek where some shrapnel had managed to hit him, but he was mostly untouched by the falling debris. Still, his breathing was shallow and ragged, and his skin was freezing cold to the touch.

Ginny rolled over and managed to lay alongside him, trying to curve her body around him so that she could share her warmth. She gripped him tight with her good arm, the broken hand screaming in protest between them. What other choice did she have?

She wondered what to do next, if she could even do anything next. Could she drag Harry back to the tunnel by herself? Could she get Harry through the rock pile and back up that long slide from the entryway? Everything seemed so impossibly far and difficult. Maybe they'd just die here after all, in the Chamber of Secrets.

"Harry," whispered Ginny into the quiet that remained. "I'm so sorry for all of this. It's my fault you're like this, my fault that we'll both probably die down here, forgotten.

"I woke Tom up. I was afraid and alone, and I wrote to him more and more, every single day. I told him everything. About me and Voldemort, about how much I liked you but was too afraid to admit it, about Hogwarts and the professors. Whatever he wanted to know, I gave it to him. I was so stupid, Harry, and now look where I've left us."

Fawkes landed beside them, walking to stand over Harry slowly. It wasn't until then that Ginny realized how large the phoenix was, how predatory his curved beak looked from up close. Fawkes looked over Harry sadly, hopping a little with his wings to sit above Harry's head.

Ginny lay in silence and watched. She held Harry tightly and wished she could share what life she had left with him. Even Fawkes seemed moved by his pitiful state, tears beginning to fall from his eyes. The liquid shimmered a little as it splashed against Harry's skin, the shower of light catching her eye. In moments, color started to return to Harry's face, his cheeks no longer frighteningly sallow.

"Fawkes…" Ginny whispered in awe, "you can heal people too?"

He blinked at her, and Ginny did her best to turn onto her back and show him her arm. Another few shimmering drops and the pain began to subside. The wrist and hand still felt broken, but the muscles and tendons began to relax and her breathing came easier. More than anything though, Ginny just wanted to sleep.

Harry finally began to stir, his eyes blinking open as they slowly adjusted to the dim light of the Chamber. "Where are we…? Oh, Ginny -- you have to look out, there's…" 

And then his eyes fell on the snake and the ruin of the diary, on the Chamber filled with fallen stone. His mouth opened and closed a few times without making a sound, a pitiful look of shame plastering his face. Ginny understood. That was how she had felt when she accused Hagrid, and how she had felt when Tom had used her.

Ginny leaned in close and wrapped her good arm around Harry's shoulder. He breathed deeply, the sound of tears building in his chest as he surveyed the destruction.

"Ginny… how are we alive? Where's Tom? He tricked me, he's really someone else, he said…"

"Shhh…" Ginny quieted, holding him tightly and shifting so he could rest his head against her. "It's over now. Tom's gone for good. Well, at least this version of him."

Harry tried to protest, tried to apologize, but Ginny waved him away, shaking her head. She didn't want to hear it. Her own guilt was too fresh and inflamed; she didn't have the space to accept the guilt of another. Finally he quieted, slowly drifting back to sleep.

Ginny looked to Fawkes, who had been watching them with interest. He stared back at her briefly before taking off, flying in a smooth arc around the edge of the Chamber. In a flash of flame, he was gone, a single feather drifting down from above. Ginny caught the feather as it fell beside her, the edges singed with flame. 

She remembered what Dumbledore had told her about her wand and which phoenix the core had come from. She also remembered what Mr. Ollivander had said about her wands twin, about who wielded that wand. She had come so close to facing him here, so close to dying at his hand yet again. Ginny shivered, huddling closer to Harry, and pocketed the feather.

After what felt like an eternity, Ginny heard footsteps approaching slowly from the direction of the entrance. Ron and Ada entered tentatively, their gasps of shock rousing Harry from the edges of sleep.

"Merlin…" whispered Ada, wrapping Ginny in a hug. "Did you kill the basilisk with a sword? How…"

"Can we talk about it later?" asked Ginny, collapsing into Ada's arms. The warmth was infectious, and Ginny could feel her eyelids getting heavy. "I'm just so tired," she explained, her words punctuated by a heavy yawn.

Next to them, Ron was excitedly telling Harry how they'd found the Chamber and defeated Lockhart in a duel. Lockhart had apparently managed to obliviate himself, and they'd left him at the entrance to the tunnel with a pile of rocks for entertainment. Ron's part in the whole affair seemed to grow larger the more he told, but Ginny didn't care. She was just glad to be alive, glad that she hadn't failed, in the end.

"Wait," finished Ron, taking in the room around them. "Who was the Heir of Slytherin then? Did they get away?"

Before Harry could speak, Ginny cut in. "Tom Riddle. He opened the Chamber last time, too," she explained. "Of course, he calls himself Lord Voldemort now."


	12. Enjoy The Silence

##  **Enjoy The Silence**

_ Words like violence _

_ Break the silence _

_ Come crashing in _

_ Into my little world _

_ Painful to me _

_ Pierce right through me _

_ Can't you understand? _

_ Oh, my little girl _

  * __Depeche Mode, 1990__

Follow along to [ Ginny’s Mixtape ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3kDLc9BK6sFjDCQ9lpZNyv)

* * *

“And so who opened the Chamber this time?” snapped Lucius Malfoy, clearly angry to be sitting in Dumbledore’s office with the headmaster returned. “I assume we’ll be taking someone to Azkaban?”

“I’m afraid not, Lucius. In fact, Azkaban’s occupancy will be down by one. Mr. Rubeus Hagrid will soon be returning to Hogwarts,” winked Dumbledore, turning to smile at Ginny. “Thanks in part to Ms. Weasley’s excellent work.”

Dumbledore dropped Tom Riddle’s diary onto his desk, the letters T-M-R barely visible amidst the wreckage of the book. "The Chamber of Secrets was opened by Tom Riddle, known today as Lord Voldemort, as it was fifty years ago. This time, he did it through the aid of dark magic,” Dumbledore explained, pointing to the diary. It still oozed with ink at the center, the deep wound of the basilisk fang ringed with the dark substance.

“He used this cursed diary to control his victim, forcing them to follow his will and execute his plan. I should hope that no more of Lord Voldemort’s old school things find their way into innocent hands again. If that were to happen,” he continued, his sharp blue eyes burning with an intensity Ginny had never seen, “the consequences for those involved would be quite _ severe. _”

The older Malfoy stared at Dumbledore with a mixture of anger and fear, his bottom lip quivering with the need to respond with a stinging barb. In the end he cowed. “Let us hope that we always have Ms. Weasley here to protect us, then.”

“You know me, _Lucius_,” answered Ginny, feeling bold. “I’ve just been _inspired to_ _great deeds_.”

His face fell, but only for a moment. It was quickly replaced by a blinding rage, and he seethed at her silent accusation. She knew he’d written the note and sent her Tom’s diary back in Diagon Alley, but there was no way to prove it. She didn’t even have the note anymore. Malfoy sneered at Ginny, letting his height tower above her.

“You’ll have to teach these children some manners, Headmaster, and soon. I should hope that no parents demand your resignation over this scandal. It would be a shame to know that you’d left your tenure without accomplishing even the simple task of instilling your pupils with some discipline. The education of our children is paramount. They are our future after all. That’s why I’m introducing my bill into Parliament tomorrow to ensure appropriate Ministry oversight of this institution. I’ll be sure to send you a photograph, perhaps one shaking hands with my bill’s co-sponsor, _ Mr. James Potter_? It might even pass unanimously.” Malfoy let the words hang in the air, heavy with foreboding, and flashed his wicked grin. Ginny felt shocked at the implication -- would James really work with _ him_? He had to be lying, didn't he?

Malfoy tilted his head and turned for the door. “A good day to you both.”

* * *

Ginny knocked sharply on Hagrid’s door; she was eager to see him now that he’d returned from Azkaban. There was a sound of something breaking inside, and Hagrid grumbled angrily at himself. Ginny stood back as he opened the door, expecting Fang to jump on her the moment she got inside.

Hagrid smiled at Ginny, and she took a step back in shock. He looked as if he’d lost half his weight, his face gaunt and pale from the long confinement. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his beard looked even wilder than usual.

“Oh, Ginny! It’s good to see you… watch your step, your knock startled me is all, and I dropped the kettle. I ‘spose I’m a wee bit jumpy these days.”

“Oh, don’t worry Hagrid, I can fix it. I learned how to in Charms this year,” Ginny answered. She pulled out her wand and aimed at the broken shards, “_Reparo." _

The kettle repaired itself, the broken pieces jumping back into place like a puzzle. “I don’t know how to do anything about the water yet, though,” she explained, refilling the kettle from the tap and returning it to the stove.

“Oh that’s… that’s...fi-fi…” stuttered Hagrid, his face bright with shame as he stared at the kettle. His shoulders began to shake and he covered his face with his giant hands, collapsing into the chair behind him. His hands were much leaner now, the skin clinging to the bone in a way that made Ginny shiver. What had he experienced in Azkaban?

“Is something wrong?” Ginny pleaded. Hagrid began to weep openly, unable to hold back any longer.

“The… the dementors, Gi-Ginny. They made me feel useless… hopeless… worthless. And… what if they’re right? Me, a grown man, and I can’t even… can’t fix a simple kettle… I’m just a mistake, don’t you see? I should ne’er been born…” he cried, his tears dropping heavily to the floor. Fang stood up slowly from his bed and came to lay by Hagrid, resting his head on Hagrid’s knee as he looked at him with mournful eyes.

“Hey, stop that!” shouted Ginny, wiping her own tears away. “You saved me, don’t you understand that? How can you say you’re nothing when you’ve meant so much to me? What about to Dumbledore? And Fang? What about everyone and everything that you care for, all the work you do to keep Hogwarts running?”

Hagrid finally stopped crying and looked at Ginny with uncertainty. “You don’t mean that, do you? You’re just tricking me, aren't you?”

Ginny wondered what humiliations and horrors he’d faced in Azkaban that had made him this way, what terrible ordeals he’d been forced to endure. She couldn't imagine spending a full minute in the presence of a dementor, much less hours. Or days. Or weeks.

“Of course I mean it, Hagrid,” Ginny assured him. “You’re one of the best wizards I know. It’s like Professor Slughorn says, ‘there’s more to magic than foolish wand waving’. He’s got potions, Professor Sprout has her herbology and greenhouses, and you’ve got magical creatures."

Hagrid nodded slowly, wiping at his eyes. "Thanks, I think I needed to hear that."

He took a deep breath, blowing his nose like a trumpet into his handkerchief. For a moment, Ginny felt like it was the old Hagrid, cheerful and carefree as the day she'd met him. "I haven't really got much in terms of family, not since me dad, you see. I remember when I came to the Burrow and found you, that awful night, after Molly and your dad… And seeing you come here to Hogwarts, saving all those people, I just know it would make them proud. It makes me proud, just knowin'. I missed you and Fang while I was there, I missed Hogwarts."

“I missed you, too,” admitted Ginny. “I came to see you, but I was too late. They’d already taken you.”

Hagrid perked up. “Did you get my note? To follow the spiders?”

Inwardly, Ginny cringed. She’d have to take it easy on that one for now, at least while Hagrid was so fragile. “Yeah… we can talk about that later, though. It, uh, definitely answered some important questions for us.” It was as much true as it wasn’t, she decided.

* * *

Colin sat between Ginny and Ada, looking anxious but still _ alive_. He shivered from time to time, but Madam Pomfrey and Professor Sprout had assured them that it was a common side effect of the mandrake revival potion. _ ‘It’s all the excess energy, you see? It’s got nowhere else to go.’ _

It was the final day of classes, and exams were all canceled due to the turmoil at Hogwarts. Ginny didn’t regret missing them, but there was something rushed about the way it all ended that left her unsatisfied, like something had been taken from her. The rest of the students didn’t seem to share her unease, their end of year celebrations filling the Great Hall with raucous noise and laughter.

Ginny and Ada had told Colin all about the spiders, and how his clue had helped them find the Chamber. He was disappointed to have missed it all, but proud of his discovery… proud to have made a difference. Most of the time he seemed like the same old Colin, full of kindness and quick to laughter, but sometimes Ginny would catch something darker flit across his face. A shadow of how the last year had changed him.

On Ginny’s other side sat Harry, his shoulders hunched in anticipation. Once word had gotten out about the truth, Harry had become a pariah around Hogwarts. It didn’t matter that he’d been controlled by Voldemort, or that Ginny didn’t blame him, students were still afraid that he was somehow the heir. Even Malfoy avoided him for a while.

Eventually, Ginny had tired of it, walking up to Harry in the common room and asking him to a game of gobstones. He’d looked surprised that she asked, and she suspected that he only agreed because she’d caught him off guard.

After they’d each been squirted by a few rounds of gobstones, Harry gave her one of the few smiles she’d seen from him since the holidays. It lit her from the inside, feeling the same warmth that was returning to his eyes. She felt clumsy, silly with the giddiness of it. Maybe they could go back to normal again, like they’d been before Tom.

The good moment hadn’t lasted, but Harry did seem to be getting better. At least the other students didn’t run when they saw him, though some would still look away.

“Welcome students, to our final meal this year in the Great Hall," announced Dumbledore, his voice magically magnified. The students settled down and he performed some quick wand-work, conjuring the House Cup point tallies to float above the teacher's table. "As it currently stands, the rankings for this year's House Cup are as follows: in fourth place, with four hundred and eighty-seven points, is Hufflepuff House. In third place, with five hundred twenty-two points, is Gryffindor House. In second place, with six hundred and four points, is Ravenclaw House. And, in first place, with six hundred and eighteen points, is Slytherin House."

There was an explosion of applause as the Slytherin table leapt to its feet, everyone giving each other hugs and clapping each other on the back. Selwyn turned to Ginny, his rat-like face bright with glee as he gestured to the floating numbers, Slytherin's green '618' towering above the rest.

Once the celebrations died down, Dumbledore continued. "As I've said, these results are where the House Cup _ currently _ stands. In light of recent events, additional points are to be awarded for certain acts of bravery, kindness, and sacrifice that embody what it truly means to be a part of Hogwarts."

The room went silent, though Ginny could still hear the shuffling of seats as people turned in her direction. She knew they'd be looking, so she kept her eyes on Dumbledore.

"To the thirteen members of Hufflepuff House who spent the better part of the last two months working with Professor Sprout to ensure the mandrake crop was properly cared for and prepared, I award ten points each," announced the headmaster, naming each student in turn. "Your kindness, your loyalty, and your commitment have helped save the lives of four students. You've embodied the very best of what it means to be Hufflepuffs and members of Hogwarts, and the school owes you a debt of gratitude that I only hope we can find a way to repay.

"To Mr. Ronald Weasley of Gryffindor House,” continued Professor Dumbledore. “Who exposed the fraudulent practices of the former Professor Lockhart, I award fifteen points. Your discovery has shed light on the accomplishments of previously unnamed witches and wizards, victims of Gilderoy Lockhart's memory charms. These individuals have been referred to St. Mungos for treatment, with the hope of restoring what has been stolen from them, and will receive Orders of Merlin for their bravery and sacrifice."

Ginny reached across the table, giving Ron a high five. They were in last now, since Hufflepuff had vaulted above Ravenclaw, but Dumbledore wasn’t finished yet.

"To Ms. Ada Shafiq of Gryffindor House, whose quick thinking and extensive research exposed what centuries of the greatest witches and wizards in the world could not -- the location of the Chamber of Secrets; I award thirty points. Additionally, your deduction that the monster was a basilisk allowed Madam Pomfrey and Professor Slughorn to prepare the correct potion to wake those petrified by its gaze.

“To Ms. Ginny Weasley of Gryffindor House,” announced Dumbledore, raising his voice above the chatter. “Your bravery, courage, and ingenuity ended the attacks on our school and saved many, many lives. The fabled serpent of Salazar Slytherin was no match for your clever melding of muggle technology and wizarding prowess. I award you fifty points.”

There was a fervor growing along the Gryffindor table, the recently awarded points putting Gryffindor in second place, tied with Hufflepuff. Ginny had only ever gotten a few points here and there, aside from losing a whole thirty points in one go before the holidays, so _ fifty _ came as a surprise. Still, it wasn’t enough to beat Slytherin.

“They should’ve given you a hundred points at least,” grumbled George. “You killed a basilisk! That’s got to be worth more than just fifty. Are there even any rules to this system? Are they just making up numbers at random?”

“And it would have been poetic too, beating ol’ Salazar’s house by killing his snake, you know?” added Fred.

“And _ finally,_” began Dumbledore as the Great Hall once again went silent. “To Mr. Harry Potter of Gryffindor House, whose kindness and compassion led to the quick release of an innocent man from Azkaban, I award five points. To suffer in innocence is a terrible burden, but to rise above your pain and think of others shows true courage.”

The Gryffindor table exploded with cheers as the House Cup totals were updated, Fred and George hoisting Harry onto their shoulders. He looked down at Ginny, his cheeks burning under all the scrutiny.

“You wrote to get Hagrid released?” asked Ginny, nearly shouting despite their proximity.

Harry shrugged, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "It was more of a confession, to the Prime Minister."

"The Prime Minister? But weren't you afraid to get into trouble?" It had taken Ginny half the year to come clean to her friends about Tom, and she hadn't managed to tell Dumbledore until _ after _the battle in the Chamber.

"Yes, but Hagrid didn't deserve to be in Azkaban. Not when it was all my fault."

"All _ Tom's _ fault," Ginny corrected. She understood what he meant, she'd been chased by that fear and guilt for most of the year. 

"I guess you're right, but I still…" 

Ginny leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. _ 'To keep him from blaming himself,' _she justified in her mind. "And that's for winning us the House Cup."

"The House Cup." Harry absentmindedly ghosted his fingers over his cheek as he smiled. 

Ginny flashed a smile of her own and gave him a wink for good measure. It was good to see him happy again. She turned in time to see Malfoy trudging over, his attention was all on Harry.

“That’s some real bullshit, _ Potter,_” spat Malfoy, his face as red and angry as a ripe tomato. “You should be in Azkaban. I bet your father had to pay plenty of people off. _ ‘Oh no, Professor Dumbledore, it’s not my fault. I was possessed by the Dark Lord’_. Oh piss off.”

“Isn’t that what your father told the Wizengamot to avoid Azkaban?” Ginny asked, advancing on Draco. “Are you saying that when your father told the court that he wasn’t a Death Eater, that he’d just been imperioused into doing it by Voldemort, it was all just a lie?”

“It does sound like that’s what he’s saying,” Ada added, leaning over to stare at Malfoy. “I suppose he would know the best.”

“No! That’s not what I’m saying, stop trying to change the subject. Potter should…”

“Should get to carry the House Cup?” said Ron, chiming in. “Since he won it? That’s a good idea, Malfoy.”

“Blood traitors, the lot of you,” he hissed angrily before stalking away from the table.

“And proud of it!” shouted Ada, giggling.

* * *

“You have to promise to write!” urged Ada as she gripped Ginny in a tight hug.

“Of course, I promise!” answered Ginny. “And floo maybe?”

“Father doesn’t like us using the fireplace for too long. He says it’s reserved for business and emergencies. I can probably sneak it in though,” she smirked conspiratorially before rushing off to catch up with her family.

Ginny hugged Colin, glad to see him feeling whole and well. “I suppose we can just use the telephone then?”

“Do the Potters have a phone line?” Colin asked, surprised. “That’s good news. I thought I was going to have to convince my parents to buy an owl. I tried right before school last year but I don’t think they get how it works yet.”

“I still can’t believe we aren’t allowed to use magic all summer,” complained Ginny. “I was really looking forward to learning some new spells. I bet Sirius knows loads of good ones.”

Colin had told his parents some of what happened, and they’d thanked Ginny profusely. She still didn’t know how to handle the moments like those, but mostly they just seemed grateful that he was alive. His younger brother, Dennis, couldn’t even speak when she introduced herself to him. Colin had said he was a big fan, but Ginny had never seen anyone so starstruck before. It felt odd that it was because of her.

Thankfully, the Potters were at Hogwarts when Ginny returned, so she was spared from recounting the story again. Lily and James each hugged her tightly, helping to lug her trunk onto a trolley.

As they left the station, Ginny realized that she truly was heading home. It had been so long since she'd thought of a place as home, so long since she'd felt taken care of. Lily reached out and took her hand, and Ginny squeezed it back.

* * *

##  **Epilogue: Cruel Summer**

_ Strange voices are saying _

_ (What did they say) _

_ Things I can't understand _

_ It's too close for comfort _

_ This heat has got right out of hand _

_ It's a cruel, (cruel) cruel summer _

_ Leaving me here on my own _

_ It's a cruel, (it's a cruel) cruel summer _

_ Now you're gone _

  * __Bananarama, 1984__

* * *

_ She smiled, the bleak outline of the wall across from her just visible in the darkness. There was something special about today, she could just feel it, but she couldn't remember what it was… _

_ "That's the one -- at the far end of the hall," said a voice she couldn't see. Footsteps echoed behind it, and a growing sense of excitement rose within her. What was she excited for? She couldn't remember… _

_ "Oh Merlin, oh no oh no…" whispered a voice she recognized from behind her, filling her with contempt. She felt annoyed though, as if she hated the person that spoke, as if she couldn't wait to be rid of him… _

_ "Turn around you whimpering fuck, this isn't about you. Yet," came the gruff voice from before. Ginny could taste his fear above the bravado, the sharp intake of breath as she was turned to face him. "Merlin's fuckin' beard, never thought being an auror would put me in front of something like this." _

_ The man paused, studying her face, and Ginny tried to speak but could do nothing. It was as if she was simply along for the ride. Two dementors stood on either side of him, if it could be called 'standing', but she didn't flinch at their sight or hear the screaming in her ears like the last time. Another man stood to the side, just at the edge of her vision. She was expecting him. _

_ She could feel fear building though, her vision shaking as if she were shivering, but it all felt distant… as if it were all happening behind a screen that separated her from the other half. The simpering coward. _

_ "For your innumerable crimes against the Wizarding community and muggles alike, for your murders, torture, insurrection, and use of Unforgivable Curses on humans, the Wizengamot has decreed that you are to be given the dementor's kiss. You ugly fucking lout. And the world will be a better place after that, if I might add. Alright then," he said signaling for the dementors. "Do your thing, I want to get the fuck out of this dingy shit hole before I miss the Puddlemere match." _

_ Ginny watched as smoky tendrils drifted into the cell, the nearest dementor billowing through the bars with frightening speed. It looked at her and Ginny wanted to crawl away from its hideous face, but inside she felt no fear or sadness, only laughter building deep below. _

_ The dementor gave her what she could only assume was a smile, its gaping maw curving into a cruel pantomime of a grin. The smoke flowed around her, and she could hear a sharp intake of breath from behind her. _

_ "Oh, Merlin no! It's not supposed to…" came the strangled cry before it gurgled into silence. _

_ "Shit, what are you doing? It's not Quirrell you're supposed to kiss, it's… No! Get away!" shouted the man outside the bars, struggling to draw his wand as dementors encircled him. Ginny watched with horror as one lowered its hood, wrapping him into a hungry kiss that drained the color from his skin and the life from his eyes. The man dropped to the floor, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. He was no longer there… just a body without a soul… Empty. _

_ Laughter bubbled inside her, spilling out like a rusty hinge, creaking with disuse. _

_ “My lord,” said the other man, bowing. She recognized his face and felt a cruel smile flit across her face. The man reached through the bars and presented her with a wand, his tattoo standing out darkly against his wrist. _

_ She took the wand he held, turning it in her fingers. It was weak as its wielder had been weak, a flimsy thing she wished to snap. It would have to do for now. _

_ Words that Ginny didn't know spilled from her mouth, pain blossoming in her joints in response. Cracking sounds echoed off the stone walls as fired burned through her every inch of skin, tearing through bone and blood and bile. She laughed at the pain, watching with unbridled glee as she forced the body under her control. She felt herself smile as she looked at the grotesque mess of her hands and feet. It would do for now, until she could fashion something better. The door to her cell twisted and opened to her touch. She was free… _

Ginny woke covered in sweat, her scar burning like fire. The rest of the pain had fled, tied to the other end of the dream… tied to _ him_. If it had been a dream at all. _ 'The man had said Quirrell,' _she remembered, knowing what that meant. Knowing from whose perspective she had just seen, and who had just broken free. Lord Voldemort -- Tom -- had escaped Azkaban. 

Ginny shivered and hoped that she was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading y’all. Hope you saw some of the little hints I've sprinkled for the next fic - I'm excited to really run this train off the rails. 
> 
> Subscribe to this story/the series/my profile for updates, part 2 writing is already underway!
> 
> Read the full thing? Drop a comment to let me know!
> 
> \-----
> 
> Fresh off her victory in _The Chamber of Secrets,_ Ginny Weasley returns home to recover and enjoy the summer. But fate has other plans for her, as rumors swirl and her greatest enemy discovers _The Legacy of Blood_. Can Ginny master her fear and unravel Tom's plans before it's too late?
> 
> Keep your eyes peeled for Ginny Weasley and the Legacy of Blood: ChosenGinny's Years 2 and 3 at Hogwarts -- Beware of Darkness and Despair!


	13. GINNY'S 2ND YEAR IS NOW LIVE!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **SPOILER ALERT**  
If you haven't read 'Ginny Weasley & The Chamber of Secrets', head back to Chapter 1 and get a fresh start! If you're the type of monster who likes starting a show in season three just because, read below for a synopsis of part 1 and spoil everything before heading over to part 2. If you want, or whatever. Savage.

During the first Wizarding war, word of a prophecy reached Voldemort; a child born to herald his downfall, Ginny Weasley. Voldemort hunted down the child's family, killing her uncles, great aunt, three brothers, and parents (all for good measure) before turning his wand on her. But somehow the curse rebounded and destroyed Voldemort, _ or so everyone thought for a decade. _

After the death of Ginny’s adoptive parents, the Sheltons, at four years old, Ginny was lost into the muggle foster care system until her eleventh birthday, when she received a visit from Rubeus Hagrid. Hagrid whisked Ginny away to a world of magic, and a family waiting for her; Ron, Fred, George, as well as Sirius Black and the Potters. Hagrid gave her a kneazle (Cleo) for her birthday because he's such a high quality dude, and Ginny was riding high. Things had never been so good.

Ginny headed off to Hogwarts and was sorted into Gryffindor, where she made friends (Colin Creevey and Ada Shafiq) and enemies (Draco Malfoy and Harper Selwyn), and developed a crush on her brother's best friend and her caretakers' son, Harry Potter. Ginny learned that Voldemort, the man who killed her family, had, in fact, _ not _ been destroyed. He’d even managed to infiltrate Hogwarts with the help of Professor Quirrell during the previous school year. They were caught and defeated by Professor Dumbledore, although it was a near thing.

As school continued, Ginny was manipulated by the memory of Tom Riddle in the form of his diary, sabotaging her closest relationships and falling under Tom's sway. He made Ginny write a message that the Chamber of Secrets was open, but after an embarrassing mistake knocked some sense into her, Ginny was finally able to escape the diary and his influence.

The diary was found by an unsuspecting Harry Potter, and 'Slytherin's heir' waged war on mudbloods and blood traitors alike, attacking students and slipping away without a trace. Things looked dire after Hermione and Colin were petrified, and Hagrid was sent to Azkaban. Ginny and Ada took to the forest on Hagrid's advice, learning Slytherin's secret from Aragog the giant spider. After a daring race through the forest, Ginny is saved by Firenze, a centaur, and told of her destiny seen in the heavens. Ginny then rushed back to Hogwarts, but was too late to stop the heir from attacking again. Harry Potter, her crush (who had been acting very funny lately, come to think of it), had been taken into the Chamber.

With Ada and Ron's help, and Lockhart's… presence, they were able to find the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. Ginny confronted Tom's memory and killed Slytherin’s basilisk before ultimately destroying the diary and silencing his memory forever. Gryffindor won house cup, the petrified students woke up, and Hagrid was released from Azkaban. Ginny headed home for a relaxing summer, only to be awoken by her scar each night with a vision of Voldemort escaping Azkaban.


End file.
